It’s been a frustrating morning.
Now, I know that you people many of whom are reading this at work are thinking to yourselves, “How can someone who is not working at some dead-end, crap-laden occupation, where you have to endure a commute that is characterized by miles of tedium punctuated by moments of terror, and then a series of mind-numbing status meetings, garnished with the snide comments of a nitpicking micromanager or the bloviation of the ego-in-charge, having to eat your peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a dingy basement café in your building, listening to the inane chit-chat of your office mates whose main topic of interest is American Idol - how can such a person talk about a “frustrating morning” ?
Well, fans, the cause of my frustration is Verizon. You know them - the company that advertises a huge network of support in their TV ads. Well, just try and get some of that support when you need it.
Since the heavy rains of last week, the phone lines have been almost impossible to use. The static on the line is so noisy that you cannot have a conversation. Not only the voice line, but the DSL service is also spotty at best. So I have been isolated without decent phone service, and locked out of internet service as well.
Calling for service is one of the most frustrating exercises I have experienced since that time last year when the DSL modem went on the fritz. First of all, Verizon has cleverly shielded themselves from the public by a series of automated IVR systems. IVR stands for Interactive Voice Response. You cannot get an operator by dialing “0” anymore. What you get is a menu of potential reason why you might have dialed “0”. Then you are subjected to what is commonly known as “IVR Hell” where you find yourself talking to a fairly dumb computer.
Now IVR seemed like an advanced concept back in the 70’s, when techies were all aflutter about designing computer interactions to mimic human responses. I confess that in those days I had a positive impression that this type of technology could contribute to the efficiency of business communications and free some people (operators for example) of the tedium of repetition. (May I help you? Who should I say is calling? )
I do applaud some communication technologies, such as caller id, call waiting, and, of course, voice mail. But I am seriously losing my enthusiasm for the over use of IVR as a replacement for a human on the other end of the line. I would rather talk to a live nitwit than to hold a “conversation” with an automated perky voice that is nothing more than an audio representation of a line of code.
The other day, I got a phone message from a text-to-voice system. It sounded like the computer voice from Star Trek. Thanks to caller-id I recognized the name of the caller as Asian Indian. I have worked with quite a few Indians in recent years. Many of the have come to the US to work on technology projects. They are a smart, hard-working group. Although they read, write and understand English, many of them still have a strong accent that makes them hard to understand in conversation. This enterprising recruiter had overcome the accent problem by using technology.
The designers of the Verizon IVR system are probably pleased with themselves with their cleverness and conversational tone. They have reduce the human interaction to a series of choices on a menu. They have replaced thousands of operators and created a buffer for the remaining humans so that they do not have to actually talk to the rabble. The only entertainment of the whole experience was that they actually wanted the caller to get a screwdriver and bring the phone down to the basement to run a line check. ( I did not make this up).
It was at this point that I hit the 0 key a few more times – and miraculously a person came on the line. “What seems to be the trouble?” she asked through the static.
“Sorry, I cannot hear you. I have a lot of static on the line.” I said.
“What seems to be the trouble?” she said more loudly.
I had to grin at the irony of the situation.
5/24/2006
5/16/2006
Epiphany de Jour
Despite my previous negative response to the question about why I don't write for a living, I have recently been giving the matter considerable serious thought. Aside from the simple fact that writing well takes a lot of BS&T, nearly all the reasons I gave for not writing for money are related to my attitude toward those who would presumably pay me for my work. Also, I noted that, relative to the pay of a systems analyst, the expected remuneration from writing would be on the same level as whale feces.
However, I have recently experienced a sort of Epiphany.
As you may have gleaned from recent blog entries, my attitude towards work has been dominated by the question "Am I getting paid for this?" So, much like a prostitute, I would dutifully show up at the client's place of business and perform acts that might be likened to those of a common whore in exchange for money. It was an impersonal business deal.
They needed a warm body and I needed to get paid. They wanted someone to talk to users, go to meetings, write business requirements, work with developers to solve problems, test solutions and make the users happy. This was fine and interesting work.
But they also wanted the ego gratification associated with demanding status reports, attendance at boring and interminable planning meetings (where they told you the weekly change in plans), and painful, inane conference calls with a cast total idiots. I complied with these acts of virtual fellatio and justified it with an affirmative to the question, "Am I getting paid for this?" I began to focus on the odious 20 mile commute which was costing me an hour and one half each day. Gasoline prices were rising sharply. Traffic seemed unbearable.
I was getting well paid, but still I could not wait for the project to end. When it finally did, I left without so much as a pang of loss. (For the record, they did not seem to miss me either. I was unable to elicit any feedback from them - no praise, no criticism. They simply saw me as an interchangeable part who did his job. No more; no less.)
After a few months of non-employment, and with the specter of going back on a dreaded fixed income, I began to look for another "gig." Out of habit, I sought out the same sort of work. I even contacted the same folks who hired me last time, with the restriction that I would only consider situations where I could work locally (within 10 miles of home).
There has been a good response from pimps - er I mean 'recruiters' who saw me as an employable commodity.
Yet, the more I thought of going back, the less agreeable I felt about "just doing it for money." Most of the recruiters have stopped calling me. One said my restrictions were, "Not realistic." I tend to agree.
This is the Epiphany: Time is running out. Life is too short to be a whore. If I am going to do something, I will do it for the pleasure of it, not just for the money. I need to do something that is so enjoyable that I will get up early to do it, and show up even if I have to drive for two hours to get there. So far, the only thing that fits the bill is saltwater fishing, but I am actively thinking of other activities that might generate some income as well. Writing does come to mind. Maybe writing about fishing. Hmmn
However, I have recently experienced a sort of Epiphany.
As you may have gleaned from recent blog entries, my attitude towards work has been dominated by the question "Am I getting paid for this?" So, much like a prostitute, I would dutifully show up at the client's place of business and perform acts that might be likened to those of a common whore in exchange for money. It was an impersonal business deal.
They needed a warm body and I needed to get paid. They wanted someone to talk to users, go to meetings, write business requirements, work with developers to solve problems, test solutions and make the users happy. This was fine and interesting work.
But they also wanted the ego gratification associated with demanding status reports, attendance at boring and interminable planning meetings (where they told you the weekly change in plans), and painful, inane conference calls with a cast total idiots. I complied with these acts of virtual fellatio and justified it with an affirmative to the question, "Am I getting paid for this?" I began to focus on the odious 20 mile commute which was costing me an hour and one half each day. Gasoline prices were rising sharply. Traffic seemed unbearable.
I was getting well paid, but still I could not wait for the project to end. When it finally did, I left without so much as a pang of loss. (For the record, they did not seem to miss me either. I was unable to elicit any feedback from them - no praise, no criticism. They simply saw me as an interchangeable part who did his job. No more; no less.)
After a few months of non-employment, and with the specter of going back on a dreaded fixed income, I began to look for another "gig." Out of habit, I sought out the same sort of work. I even contacted the same folks who hired me last time, with the restriction that I would only consider situations where I could work locally (within 10 miles of home).
There has been a good response from pimps - er I mean 'recruiters' who saw me as an employable commodity.
Yet, the more I thought of going back, the less agreeable I felt about "just doing it for money." Most of the recruiters have stopped calling me. One said my restrictions were, "Not realistic." I tend to agree.
This is the Epiphany: Time is running out. Life is too short to be a whore. If I am going to do something, I will do it for the pleasure of it, not just for the money. I need to do something that is so enjoyable that I will get up early to do it, and show up even if I have to drive for two hours to get there. So far, the only thing that fits the bill is saltwater fishing, but I am actively thinking of other activities that might generate some income as well. Writing does come to mind. Maybe writing about fishing. Hmmn
5/14/2006
Weighing the Options
The only time I miss having a job is on rainy days, when there is nothing to do outside. And we have had a 6-day string of rainy days lately.
I have a lot of time talking to headhunters. There are a number of lines in the water. I guess time will tell if there are any lunkers out there that will rise to the bait. The popular press says that the job scene is rife with opportunity. The economy is strong and unemployment is at the lowest % since the full-employment days of 2000.
I am still conflicted about my options, and what I want to do at this point:
1) Accept the idea that I am done with work forever
or
2) Take advantage of the current opportunities to work and earn money.
I keep flipping back and forth. When I am in the mood for the Retirement option, I begin to think about a future consisting of stress-free relationships, reading, gardening, fishing, wandering around, writing, socializing, and napping. Being non-employed is never having to say, "I hate this *bleep*ing job!"
Sometimes I even consider altruistic activities such as volunteering to help old people - then I realize I am practically an old person myself. Then I start to panic because I don't really know how long I have left to live. On one hand I imagine myself as an frail 80 year old living in an assisted mode, who has depleted our life savings on a liver transplant. Or, worse, being run over by a bus at age 66, just as I am starting to enjoy the fruits of full-retirement benefits.
I used to laugh about the prospect of getting my puny $130/month pension from Bull when I reached the age of 65 and 10 months. "That won't even cover my bar bill." I used to joke. I don't think it's so funny now. I don't rack up much of a bar bill these days anyhow. But at current gas pump prices the pension will just about cover my monthly tab at the local filling station.
The thought of being on a fixed-income in a non-fixed-cost world is a bit scary. So the fear of being forced to subsist on food stamps and cheap liquor leads me to flip back to the Keep-Working option.
After all, let's admit it: I still have my marbles. My health is pretty good. I can still learn any data base structure in a few days and I can communicate with business users. They like working with me, too. I have a good sense of humor, I bathe regularly and speak English. I am calm and professional, and I solve problems. They trust me, and every now and then I come up with an absolutely brilliant idea. I like the sociability of working with people - even the weirdos. The regular structure of a job appeals to me and frankly it keeps me from wasting my time and fortunes at places like Mohegan Sun and Suffolk Downs.
On the other hand....
I have a lot of time talking to headhunters. There are a number of lines in the water. I guess time will tell if there are any lunkers out there that will rise to the bait. The popular press says that the job scene is rife with opportunity. The economy is strong and unemployment is at the lowest % since the full-employment days of 2000.
I am still conflicted about my options, and what I want to do at this point:
1) Accept the idea that I am done with work forever
or
2) Take advantage of the current opportunities to work and earn money.
I keep flipping back and forth. When I am in the mood for the Retirement option, I begin to think about a future consisting of stress-free relationships, reading, gardening, fishing, wandering around, writing, socializing, and napping. Being non-employed is never having to say, "I hate this *bleep*ing job!"
Sometimes I even consider altruistic activities such as volunteering to help old people - then I realize I am practically an old person myself. Then I start to panic because I don't really know how long I have left to live. On one hand I imagine myself as an frail 80 year old living in an assisted mode, who has depleted our life savings on a liver transplant. Or, worse, being run over by a bus at age 66, just as I am starting to enjoy the fruits of full-retirement benefits.
I used to laugh about the prospect of getting my puny $130/month pension from Bull when I reached the age of 65 and 10 months. "That won't even cover my bar bill." I used to joke. I don't think it's so funny now. I don't rack up much of a bar bill these days anyhow. But at current gas pump prices the pension will just about cover my monthly tab at the local filling station.
The thought of being on a fixed-income in a non-fixed-cost world is a bit scary. So the fear of being forced to subsist on food stamps and cheap liquor leads me to flip back to the Keep-Working option.
After all, let's admit it: I still have my marbles. My health is pretty good. I can still learn any data base structure in a few days and I can communicate with business users. They like working with me, too. I have a good sense of humor, I bathe regularly and speak English. I am calm and professional, and I solve problems. They trust me, and every now and then I come up with an absolutely brilliant idea. I like the sociability of working with people - even the weirdos. The regular structure of a job appeals to me and frankly it keeps me from wasting my time and fortunes at places like Mohegan Sun and Suffolk Downs.
On the other hand....
5/01/2006
Mayday, Mayday
I will not be going to work today. This (non-attendance) is merely an aspect of my ongoing non-employment. This is not a political statement to show my solidarity with the planned “Day without illegal immigrants” boycott.
As I have previously stated, I do not support any activity that threatens to disrupt traffic. I do not care what your cause is; you have no constitutional right to inconvenience me and others. Just as your right to swing your arm ends at my jaw, so should your right to demonstrate end at the curb of the public thoroughfare.
It seems to me that the most idiotic method of getting attention is gathering in numbers, marching in the streets jamming-up traffic. It pisses people who are trying to get somewhere off. It causes secondary problems because fire trucks and ambulances cannot get through. It makes commuters late. It ignites ire in the otherwise apathetic majority.
It has always mystified me that organizers of events choose to clog-up streets as opposed to gathering in a big open field where they will not bother anyone. I do not care if you are walking for hunger, breast cancer research, world peace or immigrants’ rights. Stay out of the streets!
The demonstrations for immigrants' rights have already caught our attention. They say that there are 12 million illegals in the country today - plus or minus a few million. I am not so concerned by the one's who came here to work and assimilate. I think we can figure out a fair way to get them on the taxpayer rolls and put most of them on the path to earning citizenship.
But I am very concerned about the bad guys among them - the crooks, killers and predators who snuck in with them. We need a way to identify these bad guys and get them out of our midst.
I am not in the conspiracy theory business, but it seems odd to me that suddenly we have an gasoline price crisis to catch the attention of the public just when the immigration issue threatens to reveal the gross ineptitude of the government to manage the borders and to ensure the protection of the citizenry.
As I have previously stated, I do not support any activity that threatens to disrupt traffic. I do not care what your cause is; you have no constitutional right to inconvenience me and others. Just as your right to swing your arm ends at my jaw, so should your right to demonstrate end at the curb of the public thoroughfare.
It seems to me that the most idiotic method of getting attention is gathering in numbers, marching in the streets jamming-up traffic. It pisses people who are trying to get somewhere off. It causes secondary problems because fire trucks and ambulances cannot get through. It makes commuters late. It ignites ire in the otherwise apathetic majority.
It has always mystified me that organizers of events choose to clog-up streets as opposed to gathering in a big open field where they will not bother anyone. I do not care if you are walking for hunger, breast cancer research, world peace or immigrants’ rights. Stay out of the streets!
The demonstrations for immigrants' rights have already caught our attention. They say that there are 12 million illegals in the country today - plus or minus a few million. I am not so concerned by the one's who came here to work and assimilate. I think we can figure out a fair way to get them on the taxpayer rolls and put most of them on the path to earning citizenship.
But I am very concerned about the bad guys among them - the crooks, killers and predators who snuck in with them. We need a way to identify these bad guys and get them out of our midst.
I am not in the conspiracy theory business, but it seems odd to me that suddenly we have an gasoline price crisis to catch the attention of the public just when the immigration issue threatens to reveal the gross ineptitude of the government to manage the borders and to ensure the protection of the citizenry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)