A lot of fans have been writing to the Hellhole mailbox asking to know how they can identify when their own workplace is a hellhole or how they can identify the signs of an impending hellhole. As usual, I have figured all this stuff out and have devised a nifty test to assist my loyal hellhole readers and others who may crave guidance.
The answers are Multiple Choice
Q: How can you tell that you work at a Hellhole?
1) At Lunch, you say to your coworkers, "This is an interesting project." They look at each other knowingly and start to laugh, like you are the most naïve shit who ever showed up at this fucked-up organization.
2) Within a few weeks of starting work, your boss's boss calls you confidentially to offer you your boss's job. He is looking for a micromanager to be more of a hardass with the other team members; you decline, citing your incompetence as a supervisor, but privately you wonder why he just will not get out of the way and let the guys do their jobs.
3) At meetings, you hear Management types talk about people as if they were lawnmowers. Start em up and start cutting the grass. Cripes, How hard can iot be o develop a working business application on the web?
4) None of the smart babes wear make-up, because they know this intimidates men. (Or maybe they are lesbians. Who can tell?)
5) All the green card contractors call you "Sir." Even though you insist that you are lowly pond scum, just like they are.
6) The commute typically robs between 1 and 2 hours of your day (and life) roundtrip. Not to mention the gas. Plus the costs of automotive fuel. :)
3) The deadline for "go-live" is less than 30 days away and management is occupying important conference room space in heavy-duty meetings devising a project plan.
7) Your management hierarchy becomes very visible as they attend every piddling issue meeting but spend most of the time in the hall on their cell phone just outside of the conference room ensuring that you cannot escape. Their message: How can I help you? Why can't you handle it? Faster,
8) The meetings become so intense that there is not time to take a lunch break, so you have to grab a sandwich and eat it during the meeting and go to the bathroom only if you must.
9) You cannot help thinking about the Challenger Disaster where the only goal for the project team was launch. (The successful return of the crew was another team's responsibility. ) You probably thought that everyone knew this was a bad way to manage projects that could be unstable after they "get off the ground".
10) You start having those Titanic dreams again.
11) All of the above.
Ok Turn in your Blue Books Now
6/30/2005
6/26/2005
Heat Wave
I am beginning to realize why there is so much social unrest in hot climates. The heat and humidity gnaws at your equanimity. After a few days of unremitting 90 degree temperatures during the days and nights of sleep depriving discomfort, the usual insulating layer of patience and understanding is worn away, exposing a raw irritated nub of anger which spews out in all directions. This is why places like Haiti and Iran, Florida and Mexico are dysfunctional - especially in the summer.
I have taken to getting up before 6am and getting all my activities in while the air is still relatively cool. Then like an ant, at mid-day, I withdraw to the coolest corners of the nest to nap or read. I don't write much anymore. In fact if it was not for updates to this blog, my writing output would be nil.
I guess I have given up the fantasy that some day my extraordiary talents would be discovered by some rich editorial syndicate and that I would become the next Andy Rooney or Dave Barry. No, this is not to be. And I am ok with that. Fame is a sharp two-edged sword. I had enough celebrity back in the 90's when I was writing small vignettes for the local newspaper on a regular basis as a "Guest Columnist". People seemed to like my light humorous pieces lampooning the foibles of my fellow citizens. People would stop me in the supermarket to express agreement with a pithy point I had made. They would print almost anything I submitted, virtually un-edited. But when I suggested that I would be more prolific if I was getting Paid, they were decidedly uninterested in such an arrangement. I eventually decided to stop writing for free and went back to work as a systems analyst - which no one would expect you to do and not get charged for your time.
I am less than a week away from my 63rd birthday. ( Please, no presents - I already have pretty much everything I want or need that costs less than $10,000. ) I only mention it because my age has a lot to do with the attenuation of my writing ambitions these days.
My father died when he was age 65. None of his four brothers made it to their 66th year either. So, you can imagine that I have lived most of my life, thinking that men in my family die at around age 65 - except for the ones who got hanged for stealing horses.
Now that I am approaching that age, I am trying hard to revise my fatalistic thinking. Several males of my generation (older cousins) have successfully reached the 70 year mark in relatively good health. ( although full disclosure requires that I mention that cousin Barry suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack at 65 a few years ago.)
All my life, I have had a feeling that I was charmed in some way. You know, I was meant for something big and important. Call it ego or hubris, you are probably right. The point is that I have passed a lot of time (and Gas!) waiting for something to happen. Not making things happen. I always thought that if there was a Creator then he probably had some special purpose for me. Now, after six decades, I have concluded that if there is a Creator then he must like assholes, because he sure made a lot of them.
My goals for the rest of this life is not to be included in that count.
I have taken to getting up before 6am and getting all my activities in while the air is still relatively cool. Then like an ant, at mid-day, I withdraw to the coolest corners of the nest to nap or read. I don't write much anymore. In fact if it was not for updates to this blog, my writing output would be nil.
I guess I have given up the fantasy that some day my extraordiary talents would be discovered by some rich editorial syndicate and that I would become the next Andy Rooney or Dave Barry. No, this is not to be. And I am ok with that. Fame is a sharp two-edged sword. I had enough celebrity back in the 90's when I was writing small vignettes for the local newspaper on a regular basis as a "Guest Columnist". People seemed to like my light humorous pieces lampooning the foibles of my fellow citizens. People would stop me in the supermarket to express agreement with a pithy point I had made. They would print almost anything I submitted, virtually un-edited. But when I suggested that I would be more prolific if I was getting Paid, they were decidedly uninterested in such an arrangement. I eventually decided to stop writing for free and went back to work as a systems analyst - which no one would expect you to do and not get charged for your time.
I am less than a week away from my 63rd birthday. ( Please, no presents - I already have pretty much everything I want or need that costs less than $10,000. ) I only mention it because my age has a lot to do with the attenuation of my writing ambitions these days.
My father died when he was age 65. None of his four brothers made it to their 66th year either. So, you can imagine that I have lived most of my life, thinking that men in my family die at around age 65 - except for the ones who got hanged for stealing horses.
Now that I am approaching that age, I am trying hard to revise my fatalistic thinking. Several males of my generation (older cousins) have successfully reached the 70 year mark in relatively good health. ( although full disclosure requires that I mention that cousin Barry suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack at 65 a few years ago.)
All my life, I have had a feeling that I was charmed in some way. You know, I was meant for something big and important. Call it ego or hubris, you are probably right. The point is that I have passed a lot of time (and Gas!) waiting for something to happen. Not making things happen. I always thought that if there was a Creator then he probably had some special purpose for me. Now, after six decades, I have concluded that if there is a Creator then he must like assholes, because he sure made a lot of them.
My goals for the rest of this life is not to be included in that count.
6/16/2005
The Commute must be getting to me
As I have mentioned - however briefly - the worst thing about going back to a full-time gig is the commute. I am way beyond my comfort zone, driving 20 miles twice a day, It would be OK if I could count on a half-hour or less in traffic. But, it typically takes 45 to 60 minutes. depending on the density of the traffic for me to make the trek home? . It can be maddening.
So I have started passing the time by thinking about important issues:
What would I do if I was diagnosed with ALS?
What if I won $200 Million in the megabucks lottery.
What ever happened to Gary Larson - the Far side guy?
Tonight as I was dirving home I started wondering what preceded tha big bang. I mean what was it like? And why did it go Bang? I am unencumbered by a rigorous scientific education, so it is very easy for me to dismiss the Big Bang theory as pure unproven speculation. Scienctific explanatoin has been off-the-mark for most of the entirety of history of science, so we need not fret too much if we find a theory far-fetched. The future will prove current scientific prounouncements the same way we denigrate the superstitions and beliefs of primitive cultures.
So, What os on the other side of the end of the unverse? Huh?
So I have started passing the time by thinking about important issues:
What would I do if I was diagnosed with ALS?
What if I won $200 Million in the megabucks lottery.
What ever happened to Gary Larson - the Far side guy?
Tonight as I was dirving home I started wondering what preceded tha big bang. I mean what was it like? And why did it go Bang? I am unencumbered by a rigorous scientific education, so it is very easy for me to dismiss the Big Bang theory as pure unproven speculation. Scienctific explanatoin has been off-the-mark for most of the entirety of history of science, so we need not fret too much if we find a theory far-fetched. The future will prove current scientific prounouncements the same way we denigrate the superstitions and beliefs of primitive cultures.
So, What os on the other side of the end of the unverse? Huh?
6/12/2005
Lessons
There was an article in the Globe today, purporting to advise people who were contemplating returning to work after a long layoff. Clearly, it was an article written by a journalist, not someone who actually had the experience.
It gave "helpful" suggestions for people who have been on the beach maybe a bit too long - like "Don't wear flip-flops to work" and "You can't burp any time you feel like it anymore" and "Don't nap during staff meetings."
I learned that lesson the hard way, at one of my jobs. The CIO was annoyed with me dropping off during his impassioned quarterly motivational monologue that he moved my name to the top of the deadwood layoff list. It wasn't really fair. I had come into the office uncharacteristically early that morning to test some software modifications; I had not had any coffee yet, and the CIO was mouthing the same old inanitites. Yes, I dozed off.
A polite CIO would have simply let the thing go, but this guy had an ego bigger than Nebraska.
So, when the layoff came, I surfed-out of there on the first wave.
This time I am smarter. Now I am a contractor, so I don't have to go to staff meetings.
These days, the trick to not get caught dozing at my desk. I am working on that. Honestly.
If I was writing a piece about going back to work after a long layoff it would offer some really helpful tips:
1) Do not assume that the person you are talking to knows more than you do, even though you are new and don't know anything about the organization or the application. Many of the people I have been referred to for answers know next to nothing., but are apparently unaware of that fact. I have spent a lot of time chasing the elusive butterfly of fact. And, I might add, getting paid for every fruitless minute of the quest. No one else seems to mind, and I don't either.
2) Do not eat at your desk. This is tempting, since many of the geeks with whom you work do not like to sit in the cafeteria with other human beings and have a conversation about anything other than the multi- dimensional array problem in module 3445a.
They sneak down to the lunchroom and get high carb food from the express line and take it back to their cubes without speaking to anyone. Or, worse, they bring last night's Kung Pow chicken from home in a rubbermade container and heat it in the microwave. They like it that way. But studies show that their is more bacteria on the average programmer's keyboard than on the average toilet seat. (I do not know who did the study, but it is intuitively believable.) Personally, I find the odor of reheated leftovers to be nauseating.
Assuming that you are not a geek, you must flee from the noisome miasma of re-heated Asian and Mongolian cuisine that drifts over cube city at lunch time. You have two choices: Go to the Mall or seek-out and cultivate a group of interesting people to go to lunch with. At the cafeteria, do not sit with anyone who is alone at a big table. Research studies show that people who are eating alone have severe personality disorders, which is why no one sits with them. Don't get sucked in by their apparent friendly and inviting demeanor. They are a sink hole of human sadness. Better to go pretend to go back to your cube (but then take your lunch to your car and eat it in the way to the Mall.)
On this topic, you should also not ask the cross-eyed maintenance guy who has only one tooth, "How's it going?" Or he may deftly block your escape with his push broom and wheeled barrel, while telling you about his recent kidney transplant operation. This actually happened to me one morning. Now I use a different route to get to the coffee area.
3. You should prepare for drive time traffic. Commuting is the bane of an otherwise tolerable job. That painful thirty or forty minutes spent in sluggish, if not stopped, traffic sows the seed of frustration and despair in even the most stalwart among us. Now, I am not a good commuter. I hate traffic, waiting and everything associated with sitting in my car trying to be somewhere at the ungodly hour of 9am. Getting home before 6:30 pm is even worse.
My advise here is to find something to entertain yourself while passing the time. Books on CD or tape, favorite tunes, memorize epic poems, checking yourself for ticks, that sort of thing. Some people knit, or learn to play the harmonica, or practice asking the boss for a raise. (These days, the stigma of apparently talking to yourself in the car has been ameliorated by the existence of mobile phones.)
The other thing that helps me during the heavy traffic nightmare is thinking about the things I can buy - now that I have an income again.
It gave "helpful" suggestions for people who have been on the beach maybe a bit too long - like "Don't wear flip-flops to work" and "You can't burp any time you feel like it anymore" and "Don't nap during staff meetings."
I learned that lesson the hard way, at one of my jobs. The CIO was annoyed with me dropping off during his impassioned quarterly motivational monologue that he moved my name to the top of the deadwood layoff list. It wasn't really fair. I had come into the office uncharacteristically early that morning to test some software modifications; I had not had any coffee yet, and the CIO was mouthing the same old inanitites. Yes, I dozed off.
A polite CIO would have simply let the thing go, but this guy had an ego bigger than Nebraska.
So, when the layoff came, I surfed-out of there on the first wave.
This time I am smarter. Now I am a contractor, so I don't have to go to staff meetings.
These days, the trick to not get caught dozing at my desk. I am working on that. Honestly.
If I was writing a piece about going back to work after a long layoff it would offer some really helpful tips:
1) Do not assume that the person you are talking to knows more than you do, even though you are new and don't know anything about the organization or the application. Many of the people I have been referred to for answers know next to nothing., but are apparently unaware of that fact. I have spent a lot of time chasing the elusive butterfly of fact. And, I might add, getting paid for every fruitless minute of the quest. No one else seems to mind, and I don't either.
2) Do not eat at your desk. This is tempting, since many of the geeks with whom you work do not like to sit in the cafeteria with other human beings and have a conversation about anything other than the multi- dimensional array problem in module 3445a.
They sneak down to the lunchroom and get high carb food from the express line and take it back to their cubes without speaking to anyone. Or, worse, they bring last night's Kung Pow chicken from home in a rubbermade container and heat it in the microwave. They like it that way. But studies show that their is more bacteria on the average programmer's keyboard than on the average toilet seat. (I do not know who did the study, but it is intuitively believable.) Personally, I find the odor of reheated leftovers to be nauseating.
Assuming that you are not a geek, you must flee from the noisome miasma of re-heated Asian and Mongolian cuisine that drifts over cube city at lunch time. You have two choices: Go to the Mall or seek-out and cultivate a group of interesting people to go to lunch with. At the cafeteria, do not sit with anyone who is alone at a big table. Research studies show that people who are eating alone have severe personality disorders, which is why no one sits with them. Don't get sucked in by their apparent friendly and inviting demeanor. They are a sink hole of human sadness. Better to go pretend to go back to your cube (but then take your lunch to your car and eat it in the way to the Mall.)
On this topic, you should also not ask the cross-eyed maintenance guy who has only one tooth, "How's it going?" Or he may deftly block your escape with his push broom and wheeled barrel, while telling you about his recent kidney transplant operation. This actually happened to me one morning. Now I use a different route to get to the coffee area.
3. You should prepare for drive time traffic. Commuting is the bane of an otherwise tolerable job. That painful thirty or forty minutes spent in sluggish, if not stopped, traffic sows the seed of frustration and despair in even the most stalwart among us. Now, I am not a good commuter. I hate traffic, waiting and everything associated with sitting in my car trying to be somewhere at the ungodly hour of 9am. Getting home before 6:30 pm is even worse.
My advise here is to find something to entertain yourself while passing the time. Books on CD or tape, favorite tunes, memorize epic poems, checking yourself for ticks, that sort of thing. Some people knit, or learn to play the harmonica, or practice asking the boss for a raise. (These days, the stigma of apparently talking to yourself in the car has been ameliorated by the existence of mobile phones.)
The other thing that helps me during the heavy traffic nightmare is thinking about the things I can buy - now that I have an income again.
6/07/2005
Week 3
My, how the time passes. I know you are wondering - "How is it, back in the grind [of working full time]?" At least that seems to be the main question posed in the thousands of messages posted in the old Hellhole Mailbox. In the interests of full disclosure, the second most pressing question is "Do you want to buy drugs online without a prescription?" Funny, you would think the courts might chase after those internet drug peddlers insteads of trying to refuse dubies to severely sick people who only want a few tokes to releive their chronic pain.
But I digress.
The job is going well, thanks for your interest. So far, there is no evidence of hell-holish conditions: ie, when managers are clueless, micromanaging nitpickers. My role and all aspects of the job are loosly overseen by a blurry team of management specialists - all of whom are way too busy to spend a lot of time worrying about where I am and what I am doing every minute. I got some pretty clear directions and have a reasonable amount of time to deliver results. Can't ask for a better situation and still call it going to work.
The nagging problem (other than the rectal itch thing) is the commute. The location of my office is in a bad place to get to during rush hour. I have been experimenting with staggered hours. So far the schedule I like best is going in arounf 9:30 and coming home around four.
Unfortunately, this is not considered a full time schedule by my peer group. Glad I don't work for them!
But I digress.
The job is going well, thanks for your interest. So far, there is no evidence of hell-holish conditions: ie, when managers are clueless, micromanaging nitpickers. My role and all aspects of the job are loosly overseen by a blurry team of management specialists - all of whom are way too busy to spend a lot of time worrying about where I am and what I am doing every minute. I got some pretty clear directions and have a reasonable amount of time to deliver results. Can't ask for a better situation and still call it going to work.
The nagging problem (other than the rectal itch thing) is the commute. The location of my office is in a bad place to get to during rush hour. I have been experimenting with staggered hours. So far the schedule I like best is going in arounf 9:30 and coming home around four.
Unfortunately, this is not considered a full time schedule by my peer group. Glad I don't work for them!
5/30/2005
The Tomatoes are In
This is the weekend when many Americans do something to remember their lost love ones. A visit to the cemetery, looking through a scrapbook or just sitting on the newly completed screen porch drinking cold Sierra Nevada's thinking about the dearly departed.
Actually, this is my first one (holds up an empty.) Excuse me a second. I'll be right back.
(time passes. He returns with a fresh frosty, and continues typing)
Most of the day was spent in the garden. It was a perfect day. 70 degrees, mostly sunny skies, no wind. I planted two Rhododendron bushes and two dozen tomato plants. And, assorted marigolds.
According to the old Farmers Almanac this is the first planting day of the season for vegetables and flowers that are not "hardy." People who do not garden seem to have a warped sense of how May weather is supposed to be. They complain, "Where is Spring?"
Just because April is a cruel temptress with those lovely warm days, a lot of people are seduced into thinking that Spring will come early this year. Then comes May - the Evil bitch goddess of frigid rains and unending dankness. We, who plant tomatoes, know these harridans well. We know that killer frost can come anytime in May. So, we wait until Memorial day to plant our tomatoes, and we hope to start picking the Early Girls around the third week in July. Then for a glorious month or so, we have fresh homegrown tomatoes for our salads, sauces, salsa, sliced, or just to eat out of your hand, like an apple.
This year, I planted an extra 6 plants. Last year the rodent population squirrels, rabbit and chipmunks was out of control. They nibbled at everything in the garden. More than once I saw squirrels making off with tennis ball sized tomatoes. This year, I will not have the time to guard my little patch with the trusty BB gun, so I just planted more, hoping to offset the losses from varmints. I do not invest all this labor and effort to save money. I is all done in anticipation of the incomparable flavor of home grown tomatoes over store bought.
My mother used to call me "Farmer Brown." I miss her sarcasm and sense of humor. Here's to you, Mom, wherever you are. (Guzzles down the last of the Sierra, then goes inside for a nap.)
Actually, this is my first one (holds up an empty.) Excuse me a second. I'll be right back.
(time passes. He returns with a fresh frosty, and continues typing)
Most of the day was spent in the garden. It was a perfect day. 70 degrees, mostly sunny skies, no wind. I planted two Rhododendron bushes and two dozen tomato plants. And, assorted marigolds.
According to the old Farmers Almanac this is the first planting day of the season for vegetables and flowers that are not "hardy." People who do not garden seem to have a warped sense of how May weather is supposed to be. They complain, "Where is Spring?"
Just because April is a cruel temptress with those lovely warm days, a lot of people are seduced into thinking that Spring will come early this year. Then comes May - the Evil bitch goddess of frigid rains and unending dankness. We, who plant tomatoes, know these harridans well. We know that killer frost can come anytime in May. So, we wait until Memorial day to plant our tomatoes, and we hope to start picking the Early Girls around the third week in July. Then for a glorious month or so, we have fresh homegrown tomatoes for our salads, sauces, salsa, sliced, or just to eat out of your hand, like an apple.
This year, I planted an extra 6 plants. Last year the rodent population squirrels, rabbit and chipmunks was out of control. They nibbled at everything in the garden. More than once I saw squirrels making off with tennis ball sized tomatoes. This year, I will not have the time to guard my little patch with the trusty BB gun, so I just planted more, hoping to offset the losses from varmints. I do not invest all this labor and effort to save money. I is all done in anticipation of the incomparable flavor of home grown tomatoes over store bought.
My mother used to call me "Farmer Brown." I miss her sarcasm and sense of humor. Here's to you, Mom, wherever you are. (Guzzles down the last of the Sierra, then goes inside for a nap.)
5/28/2005
Week One
OK. I made it through the first week of full-time employment without any major issues. Ok, maybe a few, but they are mainly associated with the commuting distance - 20 miles - and , of course the chief complaint is how much this work thing eats into my free time.
Here it is Saturday and I am forced - like so many other working stiffs - to cram all my chores into the Saturday-Sunday routine. I have been accustomed to leisurely doing my dump run on weekday mornings when there is no line, then picking stuff up at the laundry whenever I felt like it. Maybe a stop at the beer store, supermarket and hardware store. All these tasks were done on off-hours. Now, I am not only stuck in the daily commuting grind, but also stuck in the weekend crush to get the chores done. At least I do not have young kids to take to soccer games...
The bright gem in all this is the work itself. Some of you may find enjoyment in doing crossword puzzles or refurbishing old houses,. I suck at these types of activities. But give me a complex data model to figure out, and I am in hog heaven. All week I have been studying Oracle 11 e-Business data models. Next week I will be writing database queries. This is better than being Pope. OK I exaggerate. But honestly, I am happy with the situation. I like the people I am working with, The boss is not a micromanager - in fact, he is very busy and commutes from Arizona or someplace like that. He's only going to be around four days a week and too busy to be delving into my underwear. They actually told me that they wanted experienced people on the project because there is no time to train them how to do things or even to check up on them. :-) . Even the young bright designer boys are glad to have someone there who is willing to go out and find out what the business users are thinking.
Retirement was great, but there is a depressing reality looks back at you from every mirror. You are getting old, it says. I think the reason I feel happy, despite having given-up much of my freedom, is that it makes me feel younger. And now, I can afford Single Malt Scotch. Life is good. And I can do anything for four months.
Here it is Saturday and I am forced - like so many other working stiffs - to cram all my chores into the Saturday-Sunday routine. I have been accustomed to leisurely doing my dump run on weekday mornings when there is no line, then picking stuff up at the laundry whenever I felt like it. Maybe a stop at the beer store, supermarket and hardware store. All these tasks were done on off-hours. Now, I am not only stuck in the daily commuting grind, but also stuck in the weekend crush to get the chores done. At least I do not have young kids to take to soccer games...
The bright gem in all this is the work itself. Some of you may find enjoyment in doing crossword puzzles or refurbishing old houses,. I suck at these types of activities. But give me a complex data model to figure out, and I am in hog heaven. All week I have been studying Oracle 11 e-Business data models. Next week I will be writing database queries. This is better than being Pope. OK I exaggerate. But honestly, I am happy with the situation. I like the people I am working with, The boss is not a micromanager - in fact, he is very busy and commutes from Arizona or someplace like that. He's only going to be around four days a week and too busy to be delving into my underwear. They actually told me that they wanted experienced people on the project because there is no time to train them how to do things or even to check up on them. :-) . Even the young bright designer boys are glad to have someone there who is willing to go out and find out what the business users are thinking.
Retirement was great, but there is a depressing reality looks back at you from every mirror. You are getting old, it says. I think the reason I feel happy, despite having given-up much of my freedom, is that it makes me feel younger. And now, I can afford Single Malt Scotch. Life is good. And I can do anything for four months.
5/21/2005
Doing It For Money
The headline for the feature story in the Business section of the paper today reads "Mass Unemployment Lowest in three Years." There is an accompanying graphic to prove it. I wonder just how they are counting the "unemployed". Once you fall off the unemployment benefit payroll, you are no longer counted in the stats since no one really knows what has become of you. Can't tell if you died or moved away, stopped looking, started your own unsuccessful consulting business, took a part time job, or just started collecting retirement benefits. None of the foregoing activities would include you in the unemployed number. I think they are really reporting that less people are collecting unemployment benefits these days because companies have started hiring back to fill slots that were shed over the past several years.
I can agree that there has been a definite increase in the number of posted jobs with the words "Business" +"Analyst" in the title.
That reminds me, A number of you have asked for more details about the new job. Now, I have started more than a dozen new jobs in my career. Not one of them proved to be the job I expected based upon the interview and discussions that occurred pre-day one. It's not that the hiring parties lied purposefully. No, the fact is, stuff happens that changes everything. I know this. I expect to be surprised. (But, you are saying, How the bleep can you expect to be surprised? Isn't that an Oxymoron?)
Well, let me tell you what I know: I will be working full-time on a four-month contract job as a business systems analyst for a big company that is implementing a new CRM system for a local HMO.
Note that I do not use names in this medium for reasons that are pretty easy to figure out - at least not until they prove themselves to be a hellhole.)
My job is to act as liaison between business users and the technical team, to ensure that the users get the info they want/need out of the new system. Same stuff I have been doing most of my career.
People have said, Hey I thought you're retired. So was George Foreman.
The details of the job will be revealed in due time, as I start the journey at 9am on Monday morning. I'm sure there will be moments of entertainment, pathos, stress and uncertainty - and that's just the commute. The job itself should be an easy thing. And even if it's a Hellhole, it is only for four months. You can put up with anything for 4 months.
I can agree that there has been a definite increase in the number of posted jobs with the words "Business" +"Analyst" in the title.
That reminds me, A number of you have asked for more details about the new job. Now, I have started more than a dozen new jobs in my career. Not one of them proved to be the job I expected based upon the interview and discussions that occurred pre-day one. It's not that the hiring parties lied purposefully. No, the fact is, stuff happens that changes everything. I know this. I expect to be surprised. (But, you are saying, How the bleep can you expect to be surprised? Isn't that an Oxymoron?)
Well, let me tell you what I know: I will be working full-time on a four-month contract job as a business systems analyst for a big company that is implementing a new CRM system for a local HMO.
Note that I do not use names in this medium for reasons that are pretty easy to figure out - at least not until they prove themselves to be a hellhole.)
My job is to act as liaison between business users and the technical team, to ensure that the users get the info they want/need out of the new system. Same stuff I have been doing most of my career.
People have said, Hey I thought you're retired. So was George Foreman.
The details of the job will be revealed in due time, as I start the journey at 9am on Monday morning. I'm sure there will be moments of entertainment, pathos, stress and uncertainty - and that's just the commute. The job itself should be an easy thing. And even if it's a Hellhole, it is only for four months. You can put up with anything for 4 months.
5/17/2005
The End Is Near
The builder just dropped by. He apologized for not returning my numerous voice messages and threatening e-mails, but he has been away on vacation and then jammed with work. He promises him that the screens will be up by Memorial Day.
5/14/2005
Breaking News
Ok, this may sound crazy - and, you cannot tell anyone about it: I have a new job.
You are probably thinking: " Huh"?
That is my sentiment exactly. I was minding my own business, planning a less-than-heavy schedule of working 10-15hrs at the Part-time job on Mon and Fri mornings - balanced by aimless puttering around the premises during the rest of the week, Lawn and gardening, shopping for dinner, whipping -up delicious feasts, grilling meat on the Bar-B, swilling frosty brewskies with my pals, spending inordinate amounts of time hanging around the periodical room at the library, leisurely reading the WSJ down at Starbucks, taking long walks on the beach, painting the front hall, pruning the crabapple trees in front, fishing for stripped bass - that sort of stuff.
Maybe afternoon naps on the new screen porch (which has yet to be graced by any [bleeping] screens; my [bleeping] builder seems to have "runaway" probably to get away from the stress of actually finishing a project!)
He will come back eventually. I know it. (I still owe him a lot of money. )
Yes, it was indeed shaping-up to be another pleasant year of marginal employment - blogging about the hellaceous things that I recall from my working life and shooting at trespassing squirrels with the BB gun, to keep them away from my tomato garden. To me, this seemed like a full schedule of activity.
Now all that is ruined by this new job thing. Now, my thoughts are dominated by angst and trepidation. I need to venture into the dark, unmapped recesses of my closet to see if any of my good shirts still fit me...and I will probably need to be at the office at an ungodly hour and there will be a commute.
Voices rage in my head and images of past clueless management and back-biting co-workers play like a B movie in my dreams.
Against this tide of disappointment and fear of the future is a tiny, but strong current of Hope. My wife is thrilled that I am "back in the game", earning money to help fund her opulant Hiltonesque lifestyle.
And a small part of me admits to being glad to get back to the world of work and ideas. The prospect of making good money appeals to the streak of greed that runs thick in my soul.
Besides, there are servants to pay, horses to stable, pools that need to be maintained. In a word, we have Standards that must be kept. Ok, this part is sort of a lie, but it could happen. As Bloody Mary sings (in South Pacific) "If you no have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?" That's why I keep buying lottery tickets.
You are probably thinking: " Huh"?
That is my sentiment exactly. I was minding my own business, planning a less-than-heavy schedule of working 10-15hrs at the Part-time job on Mon and Fri mornings - balanced by aimless puttering around the premises during the rest of the week, Lawn and gardening, shopping for dinner, whipping -up delicious feasts, grilling meat on the Bar-B, swilling frosty brewskies with my pals, spending inordinate amounts of time hanging around the periodical room at the library, leisurely reading the WSJ down at Starbucks, taking long walks on the beach, painting the front hall, pruning the crabapple trees in front, fishing for stripped bass - that sort of stuff.
Maybe afternoon naps on the new screen porch (which has yet to be graced by any [bleeping] screens; my [bleeping] builder seems to have "runaway" probably to get away from the stress of actually finishing a project!)
He will come back eventually. I know it. (I still owe him a lot of money. )
Yes, it was indeed shaping-up to be another pleasant year of marginal employment - blogging about the hellaceous things that I recall from my working life and shooting at trespassing squirrels with the BB gun, to keep them away from my tomato garden. To me, this seemed like a full schedule of activity.
Now all that is ruined by this new job thing. Now, my thoughts are dominated by angst and trepidation. I need to venture into the dark, unmapped recesses of my closet to see if any of my good shirts still fit me...and I will probably need to be at the office at an ungodly hour and there will be a commute.
Voices rage in my head and images of past clueless management and back-biting co-workers play like a B movie in my dreams.
Against this tide of disappointment and fear of the future is a tiny, but strong current of Hope. My wife is thrilled that I am "back in the game", earning money to help fund her opulant Hiltonesque lifestyle.
And a small part of me admits to being glad to get back to the world of work and ideas. The prospect of making good money appeals to the streak of greed that runs thick in my soul.
Besides, there are servants to pay, horses to stable, pools that need to be maintained. In a word, we have Standards that must be kept. Ok, this part is sort of a lie, but it could happen. As Bloody Mary sings (in South Pacific) "If you no have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?" That's why I keep buying lottery tickets.
5/06/2005
Mother's Day as an Orphan
Weather forecasts are gloomy for the next few days, ruining what should be a great spring planting weekend. And, of course, Mother's Day. I have seeds sprouting under lights in the basement - my rite of spring. The supreme annual expression of hope and expectation. Cell packs of Tomatoes, peppers, herbs, marigolds, Mom's favorite morning glories, cucumbers and lettuce.
As the season matures, the inevitable occurs. Too much rain, not enough rain, too many varmints and bugs chomping on my garden. Thus are the hopes for a bountiful harvest and a luxuriant flower garden pared-down to hopes of a few pounds of ripe tomatoes and a handful of blooms for cutting. It always makes me wonder what people did for salad before refrigeration and rapid transportation. Here in the northeast, lettuce is gone to seed by the time cucumbers and tomatoes are ripening.
Speaking of things ripening, the expiration date of my shelf life as a retail employee is rapidly approaching. I have informed my wife that the store employee discount only lasts as long as the tenure of the employee, and therefore one should hurry if one has things on her list that must be acquired.
Let me be clear: the store experience has been great. It happened at a time when I needed some structure in my life. The part-time job has given me that structure, and the excitement of helping to open-up a new store was both unique and satisfying. Meeting the physical challenge of manual labor has been the most satisfying thing I have done at work in a long time.
But there are two aspects of this level of work that are beginning to bother me. First is the problem of supervision. Any one who has ever been my manager can tell you that I do not respond well to detailed instruction. As I have often said, if you need to tell me how to do my job then maybe you should get someone else. My best most productive mode is in environments where no one knows what to do. The only direction I want from management is to identify the problem and the ultimate goal. To me the satisfaction of working is to figure-out how to solve the problem, to define and implement the solution. I want management to give me the resources and authority to get it done.
This level of autonomy does not exist in retail. Retail is run like the military. Brass at the top, scum sucking privates at the bottom of a multi-level command and control organizational structure. There is no level of decision-making expected of the dolts at the lowest levels. There is a book to define conduct, rules, and ways of doing things. The most elementary activity or process is detailed and prescribed.
For someone whose career has basically been process improvement, it is difficult to carry-out orders to do labor-intensive things routinely, mindlessly and often inefficiently. Worse, sometimes a person wants to do things differently just for kicks. This sort of radicalism is discouraged.
Secondly, there is another spookier aspect of this environment. Relentless cheer-leading. Now, I have spent six decades upon this earth. Most of the time life has been good, but there are times when things go wrong. Many times. Any residual degree of cynicism or pessimism has been earned honestly and painfully. Further, my sense of humor seems to feed upon anger and rage at this screwed-up world. Thus, my characteristic expressions of humorously decidedly negative observations (eg, the other morning, the driver took 15 minutes just trying to back the semi trailer square into the loading dock. My query, "Where the heck did he get his truck driver's license - Sears?" was met with steely looks and taut jaws of the supervisory crew leaders who will not tolerate anything but positivity. There is a palpable effort to control the thoughts of employees by constant (mindless) repetition of uplifting, seemingly harmless tenets of being flexible, working quickly, and smiling a lot. If your not having fun, something must be wrong with you.
Well, perhaps something is wrong with me. I am not having fun. Fun is drinking beer and fishing. Playing poker. Watching a great game or movie. Reading a great book. Dancing naked in the moonlight on the front lawn. Writing crap in your blog. You know, that kind of stuff.
Fun is not being micromanaged by emptyheaded supervisors who were hired mainly because they like to bust other people's chops.
Besides that, I know something else that you don't about my future in the professional workforce. Hint: it is not working at a prison in Baghdad. Stay Tuned.
And if you are lucky enough to have a living mother, be nice to her tomorrow.
5/01/2005
Job Description
Last night on PBS I was watching highlights of the Crossroads Guitar Festival that was held last summer in Dallas (or maybe it was Austin - whatever.).
Eric Clapton was the celebrity host. It was a fund-raiser. He managed to get a huge array of talent to appear over the three day concert. B.B King, Albert King, ZZ-Top, Joe Walsh, James Taylor and a bunch of others - all who knew how to play dat thing. It was very entertaining and I stayed up until past midnight to watch all of it.
But, the most memorable moment for me was just before his appearance, they had a short interview with Carlos Santana. He was reflecting on what his work meant to him. He described playing the guitar as "the giving and receiving of spiritual orgasm."
I thought that sounded like the best damned job description in the world. It takes "customer service" to a new dimension. It implies a level of worker satisfaction unparalleled in any industry I have worked in.
Just before I dozed-off on the couch, for just a nanosecond, I held a shimmering thought: Maybe I should take guitar lessons.
Then, I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed about corrugated cardboard.
Eric Clapton was the celebrity host. It was a fund-raiser. He managed to get a huge array of talent to appear over the three day concert. B.B King, Albert King, ZZ-Top, Joe Walsh, James Taylor and a bunch of others - all who knew how to play dat thing. It was very entertaining and I stayed up until past midnight to watch all of it.
But, the most memorable moment for me was just before his appearance, they had a short interview with Carlos Santana. He was reflecting on what his work meant to him. He described playing the guitar as "the giving and receiving of spiritual orgasm."
I thought that sounded like the best damned job description in the world. It takes "customer service" to a new dimension. It implies a level of worker satisfaction unparalleled in any industry I have worked in.
Just before I dozed-off on the couch, for just a nanosecond, I held a shimmering thought: Maybe I should take guitar lessons.
Then, I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed about corrugated cardboard.
4/28/2005
Roots
About 20 years ago, the country-western singer, Johnny Paycheck, had a hit song titled, "Take This Job and Shove It." David Allen Coe wrote the lyrics. His genius was to capture and articulate the dominant sentiment of most of the US workforce in a short catchy phrase.
This song became the anthem of disaffected workers everywhere regardless of the color of their collars or skin. Who among us has not been driving home from the local watering hole in our beat up Chevy pick-ups, with a six-pack on the seat and an open can in our lap, with the local Country station turned-up real loud and hearing this song on the radio, who among us has not joined loudly in the refrain?
Ostensibly, the chief reason for the passionate expression of desire to ram the figurative 'job' up management's collective rectum was the fact that the singer's woman had walked out on him, thus taking with her "… all the reasons I was working for." In other words, the main reason a man or woman keeps going in to work at a lousy job is because they need the money to support a sex partner. Now that he is alone (and there is no tax on masturbating in the shower), who needs money - ergo: who needs a job? Deep philosophical existential thinking expressed in simple terms.
Now, the true, core reason for the mantra is found in this verse:
"...Well, that foreman, he's a regular dog,
Note that the complaint is not about the work itself, the workplace or the commute. The problem (once again) is clueless management - bad supervisors and directors who infest the factories, fields, retail stores and offices of this great land, making the workers (and by extension - their women) miserable.
So you see that I have not invented the concept of Hellhole; I am merely the lens through which the reader focuses upon the root of all evil.
This song became the anthem of disaffected workers everywhere regardless of the color of their collars or skin. Who among us has not been driving home from the local watering hole in our beat up Chevy pick-ups, with a six-pack on the seat and an open can in our lap, with the local Country station turned-up real loud and hearing this song on the radio, who among us has not joined loudly in the refrain?
Ostensibly, the chief reason for the passionate expression of desire to ram the figurative 'job' up management's collective rectum was the fact that the singer's woman had walked out on him, thus taking with her "… all the reasons I was working for." In other words, the main reason a man or woman keeps going in to work at a lousy job is because they need the money to support a sex partner. Now that he is alone (and there is no tax on masturbating in the shower), who needs money - ergo: who needs a job? Deep philosophical existential thinking expressed in simple terms.
Now, the true, core reason for the mantra is found in this verse:
"...Well, that foreman, he's a regular dog,
The line boss is a fool.
Got a brand new flat-top haircut;
Lord, he thinks he's cool.
One of these days, I'm gonna blow my top,
And sucker, he's gonna pay
Lord, I can't wait to see their faces,
When I get the nerve to say:
Take this job and shove it,
Take this job and shove it,
I ain't workin' here no more.
My woman done left,
An' took all the reasons I was workin' for.
You better not to try to stand in my way,
As I'm a walkin' out the door.
Take this job and shove it,
I ain't workin' here no more. "
So you see that I have not invented the concept of Hellhole; I am merely the lens through which the reader focuses upon the root of all evil.
4/21/2005
Thinking Inside the (Empty) Box
Now, I understand that the decision to take a job at a retail store may be met with horror and disbelief by well-meaning friends who suspect that we have 'fallen upon hard times'. Let me assure you that this is not the case. My wife is quite secure in her well-paid position, and I am receiving monthly checks from Unka Sam (to pay me back for 45 years of grinding employment). Occasionally, I work on independent consulting or writing jobs which pay pretty well on the infrequent occasions when they come-up. Ends are being met. Bar bills are getting covered. There is no fiscal crisis.
More than a paycheck, what I was looking for is structure: A regular schedule that does not involve nights or weekends. In addition, as you all know, I have a lifelong dream of working at one of the "100 Best Places to Work in America." When I saw the ad in the paper for a new store for one of the companies on the list, within ten minutes traveling distance from home, I applied.
In her book "Nickel and Dimed" the author, who took a year off to work at various minimum wage jobs (eg, Associate at Wal-mart, Waitress at a Restaurant, Hotel Maid), noted that despite the fact that she had several academic degrees, none of those curricula prepared her in any way for the "unskilled" work she was doing. She discovered that she found the "menial" jobs difficult to master. She asserted that there is no such thing as "unskilled labor." Each task involved learning a specific process and sometimes the demands of a job were complex.
When I think back to my "Professional" career, I recall that many of the people I worked with (especially business users- were talented, but not particularly skilled. In fact, I now realize that managers are truly the unskilled labor force. Managers and used-car salesmen are the same type of people at different points on a continuum of Responsibility. I see management as a habit of mind, rather than a skill to be learned or taught. Leadership is an even more abstract personality trait that cannot be taught to others, any more than you can train someone to have a sense of humor.
I must confess that my work experience in the store, which have been physically gruelling, have given me a renewed sense of appreciation for some of those easy, high paying Hellhole jobs that I have been disparaging since I started this blog. (Remember, the definition of Hellhole is determined less by the nature of the work and the environment as by the Clue Quotient of management. As an overweight 62 year old, working on the receiving dock for a busy retailer is challenging, There is heavy lifting. Each man-jack has to pull his or her weight, which for me is considerable. There is a lot of corrugated cardboard packaging to be man-handled. Boxcutters are a standard tool. In the beginning, after my 5 hour shifts (which begin at 6am), I would come home, shower and then nap for several hours to recover. But now that I am in better condition, I am delighted to be out at 11am, free to go fishing or drink beer or both.
Strangely, I actually haven't minded getting up at the crack of dawn, working my ass off for what my old peers would call "short money", but learning things about merchandising and distribution that are not taught in any university. But, I admit that I am beginning to feel less enthusiastic about the job. The bloom is off the rose, as Pappy used to say.
During the first few weeks - before the store opened - the best and brightest mentors in the company have been on site. These folks were knowledgable, personable and confident. They were continually positive, encouraging and interesting. Now that the store is open, the B&B went back to their normal duties. Suddenly, the local management is pretty much on their own. They are a bit scared; and scared management tends to become micromanaging nitpickers. Needless to say, this is not an attractive leadership characteristic, in my opinion.
I've never been very good at following orders, I am reminded by those who know me. Micromanagers make me want to run for the hills. We are not talking Hellhole, yet. But the seeds are there.
I have lost 5 pounds, and I am quite pleased about that. The enforced exercise is great for my sense of well-being and other vital signs. But lately, I find myself day dreaming of a nice cubicle in a well-lit office, normal hours, no heavy lifting and the company cafeteria, and lunch.
I must go now and check my Careerbuilder job search.
More than a paycheck, what I was looking for is structure: A regular schedule that does not involve nights or weekends. In addition, as you all know, I have a lifelong dream of working at one of the "100 Best Places to Work in America." When I saw the ad in the paper for a new store for one of the companies on the list, within ten minutes traveling distance from home, I applied.
In her book "Nickel and Dimed" the author, who took a year off to work at various minimum wage jobs (eg, Associate at Wal-mart, Waitress at a Restaurant, Hotel Maid), noted that despite the fact that she had several academic degrees, none of those curricula prepared her in any way for the "unskilled" work she was doing. She discovered that she found the "menial" jobs difficult to master. She asserted that there is no such thing as "unskilled labor." Each task involved learning a specific process and sometimes the demands of a job were complex.
When I think back to my "Professional" career, I recall that many of the people I worked with (especially business users- were talented, but not particularly skilled. In fact, I now realize that managers are truly the unskilled labor force. Managers and used-car salesmen are the same type of people at different points on a continuum of Responsibility. I see management as a habit of mind, rather than a skill to be learned or taught. Leadership is an even more abstract personality trait that cannot be taught to others, any more than you can train someone to have a sense of humor.
I must confess that my work experience in the store, which have been physically gruelling, have given me a renewed sense of appreciation for some of those easy, high paying Hellhole jobs that I have been disparaging since I started this blog. (Remember, the definition of Hellhole is determined less by the nature of the work and the environment as by the Clue Quotient of management. As an overweight 62 year old, working on the receiving dock for a busy retailer is challenging, There is heavy lifting. Each man-jack has to pull his or her weight, which for me is considerable. There is a lot of corrugated cardboard packaging to be man-handled. Boxcutters are a standard tool. In the beginning, after my 5 hour shifts (which begin at 6am), I would come home, shower and then nap for several hours to recover. But now that I am in better condition, I am delighted to be out at 11am, free to go fishing or drink beer or both.
Strangely, I actually haven't minded getting up at the crack of dawn, working my ass off for what my old peers would call "short money", but learning things about merchandising and distribution that are not taught in any university. But, I admit that I am beginning to feel less enthusiastic about the job. The bloom is off the rose, as Pappy used to say.
During the first few weeks - before the store opened - the best and brightest mentors in the company have been on site. These folks were knowledgable, personable and confident. They were continually positive, encouraging and interesting. Now that the store is open, the B&B went back to their normal duties. Suddenly, the local management is pretty much on their own. They are a bit scared; and scared management tends to become micromanaging nitpickers. Needless to say, this is not an attractive leadership characteristic, in my opinion.
I've never been very good at following orders, I am reminded by those who know me. Micromanagers make me want to run for the hills. We are not talking Hellhole, yet. But the seeds are there.
I have lost 5 pounds, and I am quite pleased about that. The enforced exercise is great for my sense of well-being and other vital signs. But lately, I find myself day dreaming of a nice cubicle in a well-lit office, normal hours, no heavy lifting and the company cafeteria, and lunch.
I must go now and check my Careerbuilder job search.
4/19/2005
4/05/2005
Re-invention
Recently, I have been seriously contemplating the idea of getting a part-time job. Faithful readers will recall that the corporate world has deemed that my experience and knowledge are of zero value. Budget-conscious managers have determined that the ideal employee is thin and has 3-5 years of experience. This pretty much leaves fat old white guys like me out in the cold.
I guess the purveyers of current hiring philosophies have not read the same articles I have been reading lately - which predict a rash of business failures mainly because of a lack of wisdom in the workforce. The traditional mentor level in business organizations is disappearing. Older, experienced workers have been deliberately downsized, outsourced and put out to pasture. The goal of this exodus has been cost containment, but the business press is loaded with stories about companies that unexpectedly found themselves lacking the expertise that had previously been taken for granted. Having promoted the worst and most dishonest people, corporate boards are now wringing their hands because they discover that the current crop of leaders are corrupt, short-sighted and self-serving. The net cost of failure is many times greater than the savings enjoyed by employing younger cheaper workers.
I am not going to hang around waiting for Corporate America to come to its senses. I am moving forward. I have signed up for a job working at a local retail store which is opening soon.
I earned my retail nameplate back in the last big recession when (now defunct) Highland Superstores successfully wooed me away from unemployment, following the layoff from Prime Computer. As the new guy in the Highland white goods (appliances: stoves, washers, refrigerators were mostly painted with white enamel in those days) department, I was soon known around the store as "The new guy over in the white goods department."
My silver locks and inate understanding of the need for white goods in our society plus a willingness (at the manager's insistence) to negotiate price with the sagacious customers quickly resulted in a successful record of sales. The only downside, of course, was the fact that most of the discounts came from my commission. Thus, after several months it seemed that I was virtually working for minimum wage, which was $5.20 in 1990. I lived in constant fear that customers would return their purchase, thus charging back the pittance that I had earned in commission.
Whenever I look back and complain about that experience, my wide remembers the plus side: Standing for those 12 hour shifts, with minimal time allotted for breaks and lunch, caused me to lose weight. 20 pounds in four months.
My autobiographical account of that time in my life might even be available on bookstores, where it not for my unfortunate condition. You see I was born with MPP syndrome ( Marked Propensity for Procrastination). The draft has a working title, "The Retail Employee Diet - How I Lost 20 pounds in just 4 Months!"
I guess the purveyers of current hiring philosophies have not read the same articles I have been reading lately - which predict a rash of business failures mainly because of a lack of wisdom in the workforce. The traditional mentor level in business organizations is disappearing. Older, experienced workers have been deliberately downsized, outsourced and put out to pasture. The goal of this exodus has been cost containment, but the business press is loaded with stories about companies that unexpectedly found themselves lacking the expertise that had previously been taken for granted. Having promoted the worst and most dishonest people, corporate boards are now wringing their hands because they discover that the current crop of leaders are corrupt, short-sighted and self-serving. The net cost of failure is many times greater than the savings enjoyed by employing younger cheaper workers.
I am not going to hang around waiting for Corporate America to come to its senses. I am moving forward. I have signed up for a job working at a local retail store which is opening soon.
I earned my retail nameplate back in the last big recession when (now defunct) Highland Superstores successfully wooed me away from unemployment, following the layoff from Prime Computer. As the new guy in the Highland white goods (appliances: stoves, washers, refrigerators were mostly painted with white enamel in those days) department, I was soon known around the store as "The new guy over in the white goods department."
My silver locks and inate understanding of the need for white goods in our society plus a willingness (at the manager's insistence) to negotiate price with the sagacious customers quickly resulted in a successful record of sales. The only downside, of course, was the fact that most of the discounts came from my commission. Thus, after several months it seemed that I was virtually working for minimum wage, which was $5.20 in 1990. I lived in constant fear that customers would return their purchase, thus charging back the pittance that I had earned in commission.
Whenever I look back and complain about that experience, my wide remembers the plus side: Standing for those 12 hour shifts, with minimal time allotted for breaks and lunch, caused me to lose weight. 20 pounds in four months.
My autobiographical account of that time in my life might even be available on bookstores, where it not for my unfortunate condition. You see I was born with MPP syndrome ( Marked Propensity for Procrastination). The draft has a working title, "The Retail Employee Diet - How I Lost 20 pounds in just 4 Months!"
3/21/2005
Vexation
I have never been a big fan of politicians. As you may have surmised, I have a problem with egocentric self-serving bloviators who misuse their power.
I am a big fan of those in elected office who genuinely heed the call to make things better for the citizens of this country and others on the planet. I cannot, at this moment, cite the name of a single individual who meets this criteria. Give me a moment...(2 hours pass) Ok, Ok, I guess I am an unreasonable idealist. The system does not elect people who truly want to help others. Those who are elected are not the best and brightest; they tend to be the most ruthless and single-minded.
I am sad today. Last night, I stayed-up to watch the biggest and most vexing public relations stunt I have had the misfortune to witness on TV. It was put on by our elected officials in the House of Representatives. Fortunately, "Desperate Housewives" was a re-run, so there was not much competition for viewers who could tune in to C-Span and watch the spectacle.
In a nutshell, the Republicans managed to call a Sunday night primetime appearance to pass a bill to force the Federal court to review the Schievo case. Supporters of the bill were unconvinced by the Florida State Court system that had on 17 previous occasions decided that the poor woman who had no higher brain functions should no longer be kept alive by artificial means. The Democrats, to their credit, tried not to debate the right to life/die issue. Instead they maintained that this was a family issue that had already been decided in due legal process. Thus it did not apply to the nation and was not a matter for the US Congress to decide.
The irony of the situation made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. Here is the body of government that - just last week cut - the funding for starving children in the USA, and has consistently failed to provide decent health care benefits to war veterans. Moreover, you'd have thought that the USA was a Theocracy from the way US Reps were out there, quoting scripture and invoking the name of God.
As if they know what God wants.
The proponents of the bill have opened-up Pandora's Box. In a shameless play for the support of the religious Right, they have turned the US Congress into a dysfunctional claque of special interests - for sale to the highest bidder.
I have to go now, and write a letter to my congressman. Maybe they will pass a law to help me to get my old job back.
I am a big fan of those in elected office who genuinely heed the call to make things better for the citizens of this country and others on the planet. I cannot, at this moment, cite the name of a single individual who meets this criteria. Give me a moment...(2 hours pass) Ok, Ok, I guess I am an unreasonable idealist. The system does not elect people who truly want to help others. Those who are elected are not the best and brightest; they tend to be the most ruthless and single-minded.
I am sad today. Last night, I stayed-up to watch the biggest and most vexing public relations stunt I have had the misfortune to witness on TV. It was put on by our elected officials in the House of Representatives. Fortunately, "Desperate Housewives" was a re-run, so there was not much competition for viewers who could tune in to C-Span and watch the spectacle.
In a nutshell, the Republicans managed to call a Sunday night primetime appearance to pass a bill to force the Federal court to review the Schievo case. Supporters of the bill were unconvinced by the Florida State Court system that had on 17 previous occasions decided that the poor woman who had no higher brain functions should no longer be kept alive by artificial means. The Democrats, to their credit, tried not to debate the right to life/die issue. Instead they maintained that this was a family issue that had already been decided in due legal process. Thus it did not apply to the nation and was not a matter for the US Congress to decide.
The irony of the situation made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. Here is the body of government that - just last week cut - the funding for starving children in the USA, and has consistently failed to provide decent health care benefits to war veterans. Moreover, you'd have thought that the USA was a Theocracy from the way US Reps were out there, quoting scripture and invoking the name of God.
As if they know what God wants.
The proponents of the bill have opened-up Pandora's Box. In a shameless play for the support of the religious Right, they have turned the US Congress into a dysfunctional claque of special interests - for sale to the highest bidder.
I have to go now, and write a letter to my congressman. Maybe they will pass a law to help me to get my old job back.
By The Way
By the way, for me, life is not merely existence. Nor do I believe that it it a precedent to something else. My only reason for continuing in this life is the hope of a pleasant day, a good meal and a cold beer. Without these to look forward to, what is the point?
Just in case I am not here to ask, or if am suffering a condition that renders me unble to express my wishes, here is my official and binding statement: "I do NOT wish to be kept alive by artificial means if competent medical authority deems that there is little or no hope for recovery." Should you find me in such a condition, please place a fluffy pillow over my face and hold it there for a long time. I will be sure to come over and thank you in the afterlife, if there is one.
Just in case I am not here to ask, or if am suffering a condition that renders me unble to express my wishes, here is my official and binding statement: "I do NOT wish to be kept alive by artificial means if competent medical authority deems that there is little or no hope for recovery." Should you find me in such a condition, please place a fluffy pillow over my face and hold it there for a long time. I will be sure to come over and thank you in the afterlife, if there is one.
3/14/2005
Manana
Ok stop yelling at me. I haven't felt like writing lately. Believe it or not, writing the blog is an easy thing to put off. I am busy and there are lots of other things going on.
Some people think that procrastination is the thief of time. All of my life, I have been reading time management aphorisms decrying the tendancy to delay until tomorrow that which can be done today. Do it now.
Quotes like: "Procrastination is the grave in which opportunity is buried," have haunted me for years. Still, I have continued to plod on the wayward path of frittering last-minute idlers. I am the one who turns in his taxes just under the deadline on April 15th regardless of whether I am getting a refund or paying. If I am traveling, I finish packing as the car warms-up for the trip to the airport. If I have a report due on Monday, I start working on it Sunday night, after the 11 O'clock news.
I know I am not alone. In fact, I believe that there is a genetic component in what I call the Manana Syndrome My parents had it and so do my siblings. We have all been conditioned by goal-oriented society to be ashamed of our tardy tendancies.
The sign over my desk intones:
There are hundreds of books and seminars designed to overcome Procrastination. But there are virtually no guides to help people overcome their sense of urgency.
But at last I have found the reason why people behave this way: It Works.
One writer, John Perry, dignifies his tendancy to dally, labelling it Structured Procrastination. And there was another piece in April 05 Money by David Futrelle examining the positive side of procrastination.
Most of us who are successful procrastinators work exceedingly well under pressure. The fear of failure that drives most people to "get it done now" does not haunt the breast of a good procrastinator. We see our TV watching and paper shuffling as preparation time. We are terribly creative. We can find a million reasons Not to do something. The less gifted simply start working on the task. They will probably be done while we are still considering the options. Then, they fill their time with even more tasks to get done. I ask you, "What kind of life is that?"
We procrastinators make everything we do more interesting, adventurous and important. Seeing the deadline right smack in front of you charges up the adrenilin. "The sight of the guillotine tends to focus the mind" - another quote I have been carrying around on a yellow sticky note to enter into my journal, someday.
Some people think that procrastination is the thief of time. All of my life, I have been reading time management aphorisms decrying the tendancy to delay until tomorrow that which can be done today. Do it now.
Quotes like: "Procrastination is the grave in which opportunity is buried," have haunted me for years. Still, I have continued to plod on the wayward path of frittering last-minute idlers. I am the one who turns in his taxes just under the deadline on April 15th regardless of whether I am getting a refund or paying. If I am traveling, I finish packing as the car warms-up for the trip to the airport. If I have a report due on Monday, I start working on it Sunday night, after the 11 O'clock news.
I know I am not alone. In fact, I believe that there is a genetic component in what I call the Manana Syndrome My parents had it and so do my siblings. We have all been conditioned by goal-oriented society to be ashamed of our tardy tendancies.
The sign over my desk intones:
On the beaches of hesitation
Bleach the bones of countless thousands
Who, at the moment of victory
Sat down to wait
And, waiting, perished.
There are hundreds of books and seminars designed to overcome Procrastination. But there are virtually no guides to help people overcome their sense of urgency.
But at last I have found the reason why people behave this way: It Works.
One writer, John Perry, dignifies his tendancy to dally, labelling it Structured Procrastination. And there was another piece in April 05 Money by David Futrelle examining the positive side of procrastination.
Most of us who are successful procrastinators work exceedingly well under pressure. The fear of failure that drives most people to "get it done now" does not haunt the breast of a good procrastinator. We see our TV watching and paper shuffling as preparation time. We are terribly creative. We can find a million reasons Not to do something. The less gifted simply start working on the task. They will probably be done while we are still considering the options. Then, they fill their time with even more tasks to get done. I ask you, "What kind of life is that?"
We procrastinators make everything we do more interesting, adventurous and important. Seeing the deadline right smack in front of you charges up the adrenilin. "The sight of the guillotine tends to focus the mind" - another quote I have been carrying around on a yellow sticky note to enter into my journal, someday.
3/02/2005
Poor CEO's
News Item:
There was a big, protracted fight within HP stockholders about the merger/takeover. During this time, the uncertainty about the future tainted everything. New projects froze. Plans were put on hold. Budgets were constrained, management was scared and clueless. My workplace became a Hellhole.
In the end, Carly won the day. HP took over and the bloodbath at Compaq began. We watched helplessly as our contacts were laid-off. The relationships Compaq had developed with suppliers was nullified as HP asserted it's power. The inevitable happened: my job went away along with many others at the Hellhole. Thanks, Carly.
After two years, skillions of dollars, many thousands of casualties (both at Compaq and its suppliers) the HP board finally realized what I could have told them in the first place: Carly was wrong. She was punished severely, sent packing with a mere $21 Million severance to ease the sting of her public humiliation. She is eligible for unemployment benefits on top of that.
My severance was two months pay, plus unused vacation. This barely covered my tab at the local gin mill.
My last real job was going pretty well until Carly Fiorina decided that HP needed to buy Compaq. My company had a big contract, managing all the contract staffing at Compaq in the USA. My role was essentially to keep the customer happy. I was making good money and life was good. Then came the HP cloud."(WASHINGTON) Carly Fiorina, who lost her job as chief executive of Hewlett-Packard three weeks ago, has emerged as a strong candidate to become president of the World Bank, according to an official in the Bush administration..."
There was a big, protracted fight within HP stockholders about the merger/takeover. During this time, the uncertainty about the future tainted everything. New projects froze. Plans were put on hold. Budgets were constrained, management was scared and clueless. My workplace became a Hellhole.
In the end, Carly won the day. HP took over and the bloodbath at Compaq began. We watched helplessly as our contacts were laid-off. The relationships Compaq had developed with suppliers was nullified as HP asserted it's power. The inevitable happened: my job went away along with many others at the Hellhole. Thanks, Carly.
After two years, skillions of dollars, many thousands of casualties (both at Compaq and its suppliers) the HP board finally realized what I could have told them in the first place: Carly was wrong. She was punished severely, sent packing with a mere $21 Million severance to ease the sting of her public humiliation. She is eligible for unemployment benefits on top of that.
My severance was two months pay, plus unused vacation. This barely covered my tab at the local gin mill.
I guess I'm finding it hard to garner sympathy for the poor CEO's in the news. ( Poor Bernie, no one told him about the fraudulent accounting; poor Martha, she had to do jail time for doing what everyone does). But above all, poor Carly - what idiot would want to hire her, after the HP fiasco?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)