Welcome Keri Sedor

This month we welcome a new-hire here at PEMBA: Keri Sedor! Keri comes to us from Timbuk2 (the company, not the place) and in our mix will replace Peter Naputi as our office manager. Peter – as you may recall – landed a position back in the mortgage industry. Not content we’re sure just to be a replacement for somebody else, Keri comes to us with high recommendations: Mike Wallenfels told us that he almost resigned when he finally figured out that Keri was no longer part of the team at Timbuk2. He had assumed (probably even hoped) that she was there for life. Well, his loss is our gain, and – let’s face it – that’s a good place to be. Please help us in welcoming Keri to the team. Here’s a bit about her, in question-and-answer format.

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What brought you to Madison?

Like many before me, I came to Madison Wisconsin seeking Beer and Cheese.  It just so happens that I had been dating a very interesting and good-looking man that resided here.  When I told him about my Beer and Cheese plan, he offered to share his living quarters with me and pointed me toward the nearest gym when I arrived.

Compared to San Francisco, the city in which I had spent the last 7 years of my life, Madison is a bit smaller but has a comparable bite. It’s quirky, earthy and unique.  Its inhabitants are friendly, outgoing and outdoorsy.  In a word or five, it’s my kind of town.  I’m looking forward to mid-May when winter finally retreats and I can dust off my canoe and have some outdoor Wisconsin fun!

What do you like to do outside for fun?

I love to be outside, period.  Just about any activity is more fun when you do so outdoors smelling the air and feeling the breeze on your face.  I love a good day in the park where you can lie on the earth, read a book or play with other peoples dogs and children and wave goodbye when they go back to their own houses to make a mess and lots more noise.  I love the sun on my face and being with good family and friends, watching the world.  I’m also an avid cyclist and love to commute to work by bicycle.  On the weekends, you can find me and my good-looking friend in candy colored spandex covering many miles and smiling up at the sun.

Where did you grow up?

I hail from the tiny village of Kulpmont, Pennsylvania.  I shared a room with my twin sister, Kristen for many years while growing up there.  In fact, we shared a room all the way up until we left for college, a fact that upon hearing, some scrunch their eyes at as if sizing me up to say, so that’s why…  As if sharing your mother’s womb isn’t weird enough?  We figured why stop there.  We played trivia games late into the night, whispering from one dark corner of the room to the other, “I’ll take Sweet Valley High for $300 please, Alex.” We read voraciously and played outside and grew up with that small town yearning that carries you to far places like college and California.  And Madison.  Wisconsin.

What was your weirdest job?

When I was in Junior High, all the cool kids got jobs at the Elysburg Gun Club.  This is exactly what it sounds like.  Old men with large rifles and big pockets traveled there from far and wide, some in double-wides, to shoot at fake pigeons and give high fives.  Afterward they drank beer and courted hard-looking women with husky voices.

The cool kids worked long, hot hours to keep pigeons in the air and correct score on the ground.  I remember having to get official ‘papers’ to work here because we weren’t yet 16 years old.  I spent my days holding a magic button that when pressed, released a clay pigeon into the distance.  The old guy would yell pull!, I’d press the button and he would shoot.  Then I would mark his score – X for big shot or O for big loser.  Men would cry like children if no pigeon appeared which let’s face it, they weren’t really pigeons, they were discs made of clay.  And they were painted orange so you could see them better.

And that was the boy’s fault not mine.

I was assigned rank in the chair at the Fun Club as a result of my birthright as a female.  All the scorekeepers were female.  Oh how the boys were envious of us, sitting in those chairs sunning ourselves all day, slowly losing our hearing from all the shooting and taking verbal abuse from the shooters because we couldn’t hear them yelling “Pull!” because we were losing our hearing from all the shooting.

No, all the males had to work inside the traps.  This meant loading pigeons onto a swinging metal arm, one after another in rapid succession.  So if a pigeon didn’t fly, that meant he hadn’t loaded the arm fast enough. Or he passed out from heat exhaustion.  It was a terrible job, but someone had to do it and it might as well be these pre-pubescent males, what with all their acne and creaking voices.  We were making men out of these boys and filling the job, essentially killing two birds with one stone.

Three if you count the fake clay pigeon.

This job was hard and they had to expend a great deal of energy avoiding death by decapitation and/or heat stroke.  All great men must know how to do these things.  And all great women must have spent some portion of their working youth learning to take orders from men and pretending they couldn’t hear them so they could maintain some sense of liberty and go on to become strong independent women.

That, was my weirdest job.

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