Sphere of Archives

July 1, 1999

Tampax Was There

It was just like Woodstock, as seen on TV. Lot's of hip, sweaty teens jiving to endless Celtic fiddle music as the rain poured down. They didn't care. It was history in the making. It was 'the time we dared to dream' (thank you, Chretien's speech writers). Meanwhile, I was stuck in Arnprior.

It's a small town, with small town wants and needs. When I met up with Todd Sloan there in the afternoon. We had lunch at Big Joe's and watched the fancy car show along the river banks. A cover band was playing country music, which forced us out. Then we went to a cousin's house to meet the locals. As we guzzled beer while watching MuchMusic, I heard about who got drunk and who got into a fight with whom, and who had to be carried home because they were too drunk or injured to make it on their own. One guy, a local hockey player, talked incessantly about sex -- how badly he wanted it, who he wanted to do it with, who was likely to give it, etc. I think he had a back injury because a couple of times he slumped ungracefully onto the floor and stretched out, showing his beer belly.

Hours later, it had started to rain. We travelled to someone else's apartment to meet up with more people. This is the weird thing about people in Southern Ontario. In Thunder Bay, people meet at the end of the journey. Here, people spend hours travelling to different houses -- gathering momentum, reaching escape velocity -- before ending up at a bar. This apartment had no masculine touches, unless you count the large television. There were painted flowers and porcelain figurines and puffy fringes everywhere. We sat down and watched some porn. The images seemed to make some of the guys uncomfortable, so they flipped to the end of "A Night at the Roxbury." It truly is a bad film. I think it was the last in a series of bad films based on an SNL sketch.

After the film, it was off to someone's cabin at Braeside. We played "31" for cash. I made some dazzling plays to win the first round and a $70 pot. The second round was taking too long, so I gave up. Finally, at around 11:30 pm, we headed for the bar, and the bar turned out to be Big Joe's.

Not much was happening at Big Joe's. The two little pool tables were taken. There was a line at the bar that would put LU's Outpost to shame. Some too cool DJ at one end of the bar was playing all of his MuchMusic dance music CDs. But this wasn't a dancing crowd, it was a fighting one. The action started just after Todd and I left at 1 am. Todd's cousin said it was a half-hearted affair. The rain put a damper on everything, I guess.

July 2, 1999

Another Kodak Moment

The annual Greenbank Towers Canada Day fireworks extravaganza was on tonight. It took place in the park across the street. All of the children in the neighbourhood came to see. I was impressed with the show. The one-man effort was much better than the Thunder Bay fireworks I remember. For instance, this one had two or more fireworks going off at once, and there was a Canadian flag with a spotlight on it. Of course, all of the children had to get closer because they wanted to see everything. Then the wind changed direction, and sparks from the exploding crackers started to rain down on the crowd. Everyone started to run away from the launching platform. No-one caught fire or anything, but it was a good show, nevertheless.

July 2, 1999

The Dragon Lady

Every Friday, a friend and I go to the Ho Wah Chinese restaurant for a buffet of won ton soup, vegetable dishes, rice and chicken balls. The place is run by a hyperactive matron with a shrill voice. You can hear her yelling in Mandarin at the cook in the back. She's probably telling him he's doing a good job. It's probably her husband. Once I ordered a glass of water, but she couldn't get it right away, so she yelled to the back from our table for someone to get the water.

She has a nice-looking daughter who waits on the tables. I'd ask her out, but I don't want to deal with the in-laws.

July 3, 1999

"You're banned from the pool."

Today was the big barbeque where I had the chance to meet half of Mrs. Sloan's relatives. I managed to remember most of them from the last party, but this time there were a few people from Michigan, who kept to themselves mostly. I brought my own case of beer, as requested, and I brought my swim trunks.

Mrs. Sloan's relatives are sticklers for rules. The first minute I got there, I was reprimanded for carrying a glass bottle into the pool area, and was ordered to put it into a plastic cup. Geez, back to those salad days in Glencatraz at Carleton. A number of people were urging me to go for a swim. It's a nice pool, about six metres long and three metres wide, and just over two metres deep at the deep end. It was full of little kids, so I had to wait. Then I went to the diving board and did a huge power bomb that made the water come up to the rim. Then I did a couple of high dives. Then this old woman, Aunt Gertie, told me to get out of the pool. The deep dives were unsafe, and I was being a bad influence on the kids. And it was all caught on video tape!

So, I spent the rest of the day out of the pool area and drank my beer.

I met this guy named Mark, who is a cycling fanatic. He started the conversation with "You look pretty thick," and I wasn't sure if he was talking about my body or my brain. He took Taekwondo, too, but stopped at the green belt level.

Then I saw Gail Gavin, the family's country and western star from Carp. I don't think she has an album out, but she has a nice voice. It seemed to me that she took pains to avoid coming into physical contact with some of her relatives. She sang for an hour or so. Later, among people she was more comfortable with, she did a great impression of a francophone hockey announcer ("Charest prend le caoutchouc. Il le donne a Beliveau. Beliveau lance. Il compte. Toronto un. Montreal un. Ca fait un un.")

July 4, 1999

The Party Never Stops

Another afternoon with the Sloan party, this time at the Fitzroy Harbour campgrounds. More heat. More humidity. More meat. More wine. I wanted to strap ice packs to my body.

In the evening, some people went back to the scene of yesterday's party, Rick's house. His tiny dog started barking at me. I mumbled a line from Ace Ventura, "So it's true. Dogs can sense evil." I don't think Rick got the joke. I did a few more high dives off the board (these people are never going to want to see me again), and then drove back to my 18th floor oven.

July 5, 1999

Recovery

It was a bad day at work. I felt exhausted after hanging around the Sloan's party animal cousins. I didn't do anything. I just flopped around in my chair, drank coffee and surfed the web. I think my boss walked by my cubicle and saw me slack-jawed. It's all a caffeinated blur.

July 7, 1999

Mini Perl

I spent all day working on a Perl program to replace the department's Activity Tracking System, which is just an Excel spreadsheet I made two years ago. It just proves that any joe can create an organizational legacy. But this time it's going to be web-based, searchable, graphical (sort of), cool! Unfortunately, there are a number of systemic obstacles created by people who meant all too well. First, the server administrators didn't install the helpful Perl modules with the interpreter. Second, I can't create new files with my program. The resident Perl wizard in the computer operations department is mystified at that one. We have a work around -- before I create a file, I have to make sure it already exists on the server. This is how stuff like the Y2K bug happens.

Since I am the only person in my department who has installed Linux, I am the resident expert. But in two months I have to be smarter than everyone else in the building, because I'll be supporting the Linux servers in the labs.

July 14, 1999

The Doer

I accompanied a co-worker to one of the brand new Nortel buildings at the Carling campus for a meeting with some engineers. From the outside, the new buildings look like they are part of a new mall, complete with an Eaton's and a Zellers. Inside, they look like cafes with open-concept offices, what Starbucks might be if they made cell phones instead of coffee.

The meeting was obviously politically charged. One of the Carling guys, a loud, insincere man, went out of his way to ask simple questions about networking technology in order to test us. If we didn't know what we were talking about, he would have told his manager and co-workers about our ignorance. He's done it before. But the meeting went well, and after we shook hands as if we meant it.

There is a Tim Horton's efficiently dispensing bad coffee in the foyer. My co-worker and I decide to sit and talk about the company. I ask him if he thinks the open concept and the hip design are political, that is, they enforce a particular mindset.

"Of course, it's political," he says. "Many people had to approve the design -- real estate, finance, the V-Ps, John Roth. They have to justify everything to the managers... I don't like the open concept. Any one can walk in and bother you. I like the cubicles. I like being in a big maze, so you can't find me. Hey? You know what I mean, right?"

"Did you see in the meeting, those guys asking me those questions about T1? They don't need to know that stuff. They're just trying to make me look stupid. Then they e-mail their manager, my manager, all the departments and say we don't know what we're doing. It's all politics! You know?"

We watch a small crowd of people chatting in the foyer. He says, "Look at those guys. When I see people like that, I think, 'Geez, I better work hard so that Nortel's stock goes up.'"

July 17, 1999

"I'm not fat. I'm big boned."

Foolishly, I took an on-line wellness assessment test. On the good side, I scored 6 out of 50 for overall risk. I'm not at risk for age-related problems, smoking, or alcohol, and I got a four-point deduction for exercising occasionally.

On the bad side, I have a poor diet (not enough vegetables and fruit - "Your eating habits have added 2 to your Risk Score."). The program provided a list of healthy choices, which I ignored. (Wow! It's just like going to a real doctor.)

But the real shocker was that I'm dangerously obese.

Weight Risk: MODERATE

Weight (lb)	Notes
Current: 195 Recommended: 134 - 167 by BMI WAIST(in): 32 HIPS(in): 40	Your weight and its distribution adds 3 to your Wellness Risk Score. Your Body Mass Index (BMI) is in the range ( 28.0 to 29.9) considered very overweight.
Action Plan: LOSE A LITTLE - GAIN A LOT!

July 20, 1999

The Jazz Singer

I won a $20 gift certificate to the jazz show of my choice during Ottawa's Jazz Festival. The contest was a quiz of Jazz history. I wasn't even on the mailing list for the company contest, and I don't know anything about jazz. I got the answers off the Internet. I sent in answers for a co-worker who was on vacation during the quiz. She won, too.

The crappy thing about the contest is that the festival is half over. The headliner bands have already played. All that's left are some "new wave" jazz artists and The John Geggie Trio's nightly jam sessions at the Ramada Inn.

July 21, 1999

I control the group

I am travelling to the Maritimes next month with a co-worker and his roommate. It's clear that I am the take-charge guy. I am doing the research. I am setting the agenda. I cast the deciding vote. And after nine days of this, I bet this co-worker will never ask me to do anything with him again.

But, face the facts. The only reason he asked me along in the first place, I think, is that he doesn't have an ideal relationship with his roommate, but he doesn't want to travel alone either. I was an obvious target, since: a) I'm easy to push around early in the morning ("Mmm, yeah, okay. Let me get some coffee."); and b) I have no life. I've never been to the Maritimes, either. Unfortunately, we won't be going to the Moosehead beer factory in Saint John.

Instead, we're going camping, which begs the question, "How do three urbanites survive in a national park?" My suggestion to hunt and kill whatever is in season was shot down. But neither of us cooks; we can only reheat. It looks like we'll be gleening nutrients from a trailmix of potato chips, peanuts and soda pop.

July 23, 1999

Hey, Cats and Kittens

I was feeling down. It was a frustrating work day, full of disappointments, surrounded by people who seemed to know a little or a lot more than I did about my job. Thinking about how much I'm overpaid, I drove downtown to the Jazz festival.

The featured "Great Canadian Jazz" band was Joe Armando (y su Grupo Picante), a Latin jazz musician originally from Columbia. Singing and percussion was done by his beautiful daughter (she's a healthy girl), who changed from one skin-tight outfit to another between sets. His son Joito played the congas, and Joe played a big percussion set himself. Watching Joe is like watching the muppet Animal. I guess the word to describe how he looked would be 'orgasmic'. He really enjoys playing the drums.

July 26, 1999

Geek World

I spent the whole morning at a Linux Symposium, conducted by video conference at several Nortel sites in Ottawa. First, I couldn't find the room. I got bumped into one of the overflow rooms in Lab 7, one of the new buildings on the Carling campus. None of the buildings are labeled, and there are no maps. So, I went into the wrong building. Then, when I was pointed to the right building, I couldn't find a door I could open from the outside. Then I had to find the pillar coordinates of the room. I was ten minutes late, so I thought I would barge in and block everyone's view for a few seconds while I found a seat. I went through the door. There was only one guy in the conference room. So I blocked his view for a few seconds while I found a seat.

I wanted technical information, but the symposium was kept fairly general. I already knew most of the stuff. I tried to strike up a conversation with my fellow Linux guru. Has he been using Linux for long? He answered "no" in a way that made me think, "Here's someone who looks and sounds more depressed than me." We watched the rest of the symposium in silence.

The weirdest speaker was Alan Cox aka "Number 2" ("Who is Number 1?"), who talked about truths and myths about Linux. He has a British accent, and a large unkempt beard that stuck out all over the place. He kept tugging at his T-shirt as if he was trying to keep it from crawling up his body.

At the end of the conference, the emcee decided to go around the video conference rooms, polling for questions. I thought, "Uh oh. I'm going to look like a loser if all the other video rooms are empty."

The image of an empty conference room comes up on the television. I had to move fast!

July 28, 1999

Our Doomed Hero

I can't fail yet; I've only been here three months. But yesterday was hard. After two days of trying to figure out why the department's new Linux PC won't see the network, I find out I've been using the wrong IP address for the machine.

For the past week I've been trying to configure a terminal server for a lab user. All anyone knows is that it was working well before I touched it. Then I got a memo from my manager reminding me that this problem was going to put an important project behind schedule, so I take some time to write a report explaining why it was late. I was starting to lose it. One of my co-workers said, "Eric. Relax. You can ping the box. You can telnet to it. You checked the configuration. You checked the cable. That's it. It must be the user's machine, so push it back." But then I found out the server had a hardware malfunction, and then I found out someone had fiddled with the flash card that boots the server. I explained all this to the user, and he asked, "Are you having fun yet?"

I was put in charge of loading a device on one of the mobile telephone exchange (MTX) switches at Carling. It's a new device, and I spent a few hours over two days calling and e-mailing people to find out what the procedure was to get the software loads and install them. It still failed. Finally, the manager heading the project calls and asks, "Did you FTP those loads as binary? It's supposed to be ASCII." Doh! Those guys never mentioned that.

Eventually, five o'clock comes around. I start walking home down Baseline through the hot sun. This song is running through my head.

At TKD class, I'm out of control. My partner holding the kicking bag keeps backing up before I kick. During practice sparring I keep hitting people. One instructor's children were taking part, too. They're six or eight years old, so I went on my knees to make it fairer. That was probably the only fun part of my day. After class, I go to Starbucks. It has become a routine. I order a "venti" coffee of the day, the "full-bodied" strain, and sit on the patio. I think I should start going to the gym. I think I ought to buy some books. I think I should get the patches for the software on my home computer.

Tomorrow is going to be more of the same.

July 31, 1999

Hermit Crabs

A friend asked me to help her and her fiance move into a new apartment. Now that they both had jobs, they were leaving a cramped and dreary place for a prettier one. There is only one problem with the new place. The second-floor apartment has two floors and most of the boxes and furniture was going upstairs, and there is no elevator in the building. I was needed for the heavy stuff.

We started loading the truck at five. The couple didn't seem well-prepared for the move, so I organized what should go on the truck when and how. Moving out took a little less than two hours. The apartment was tiny, but somehow all of the belongings of two adults managed to fit. The heaviest object was a small steel computer desk that must have weighed 200 pounds. Its only unique feature was the ability to adjust the height with micrometer precision. But the worst part of the move was the two-hour trek up and down the stairs to the new apartment. It was hot and muggy, and I was feeling exhausted. What kept me going was the promise of beer and pizza.

At no time did any old or new neighbours come to help us, or even to watch. At the new place, one neighbour closed his blinds, I guess so that he couldn't see us. His wife came out on the balcony to watch a brewing lightning storm. When I waved to her and greeted her, she looked bothered and went back inside.

August 1, 1999

A Taste of Italy

The people I helped move yesterday took me out for dinner tonight. I wanted pasta, so we went to a nice place on Preston Street. My friends didn't seem to know much about Italian food. I ordered gnocchi and prosciuto, and explained what they were. They asked about my heritage ("So your dad's Italian, and your mom's English. But you said you're Canadian."), and we talked about food.

There were these two fat women sitting beside us. I thought they were lesbians. But then one of them made a comment about her husband, so I guess it was "girls night out" or psychotherapy or something. As we were leaving, a group of tourists came in. When they entered, one of them yelled "Bonjourno," as if to announce that the life of the party had finally arrived. The decibel level in the room shot up immediately.

August 2, 1999

Don't Panic

When I wake up, I often think I've made a horrible mistake. Maybe I slept in, or maybe I forgot to do something at work, or maybe I said something to someone that I shouldn't have. Today, for instance, I had the impression yesterday that today was a holiday. I had already made plans to clean my apartment, see a movie, have lunch at a restaurant, etc. I stayed in bed until 8:30. I read the newspaper. At 9:00 I remarked to myself about the traffic, that it seemed a bit heavy for a holiday. At 9:30 I went downstairs to do laundry, but the room was locked. Suddenly, I felt worried. The room is supposed to be open at eight, but isn't because: a) someone forgot; b) no-one is expected to be doing laundry at this time because everyone is at work. Would someone forget a daily routine like opening the laundry room? I hurried back upstairs to get ready for work.

I think back to the reason I thought today was a holiday. The Nortel gym had a sign posted saying it would be closed today, and when the gym closes, Nortel is closed. But what if it was just the gym? I got the paper today, and usually the paper isn't delivered on holidays. I had to go to work to be sure. As I'm driving down Baseline, I'm figuring out the logic. If today is not a holiday, I'm late for work, and I'm a fool for thinking it's a holiday. If today is a holiday, I've panicked for nothing, and I'm a fool for wasting my time.

As I turn onto the road leading to the parking lot, I start counting the cars. Two rows, four rows, five-and-a-half rows... and the rest is empty. It's probably a holiday, but I'm still not entirely convinced. I go up to my cubicle. There are no phone messages. No-one else is here. I'm a fool.

August 3, 1999

First of the Month

The old woman who lived beside me is gone. I noticed her patio had been emptied. The apartment door was open (the cleaners), and I saw the bare interior. I never saw her. Maybe she died days ago (just at the end of the month -- she had good timing), or maybe she was moved to a retirement home by children who never visit.

In any case, there's a two bedroom apartment free, and that means new neighbours. Maybe someone who enjoys cooking, and sharing the cooking. I must remember to say hello.

August 4, 1999

My Personal Kato

A friend of a co-worker was fired (Or quit. It's still unclear.), and since I'm the only one this co-worker really trusts, I was asked to provide him room and limited board. Of course, my motives aren't entirely altruistic. This giving might lead to the promise of a chance at a job in an as-yet-undetermined department within the post-restructured corporation.

The visitor is a "production technologist." I didn't ask, but I think that means he figures out what machine you need in order to do something, like a friend who helps you go shopping or a waiter who suggests entrees from the menu. He's my age. He's single. He has been living in Calgary since 1986. He stays out late, and sleeps in. He doesn't like big cities (too many "problems"), and he hates shift work. He's trying hard to not be a bother, washing my dishes after he uses them, keeping the sofa-bed tidy, etc. He's here until next Wednesday. After that, I guess he's out on the street (or back to Alberta -- same difference).

So, if you have friends who need a place to stay for a few days, and you can boost my career, why not send them to Chateau Eric, where the couch is soft, and the tea is hot.

August 6, 1999

"I'm a 'Do or Do Not' Kind of Guy."

My Maritime tour group had a final planning session tonight. I compiled the minutes and sent out the action items.

We sat inside Starbucks. Jason was pouring over a map. Ray was getting an ice mocha. I start out be listing how I completed the items I was assigned from the last meeting, and I mention that two women might be joining us, and that I might have to cancel reservations because the driving could be longer than I thought it would be. Somehow, it became an argument. Below is a sample, taken from memory.

J: So how long do you want to stay at the Bay of Fundy. Do you want to spend the whole day there?
E: No. I just cancelled the reservation because I thought we'd get there Friday night. But we'll only make it to Fredericton. We can go to the Bay of Funday the next day.
J: You want to spend all day Sunday at the Bay of Fundy?
E: No, just a few hours.
J: But you booked a reservation...
E: Because I thought we could sleep there overnight. But we won't.
J: I thought we were just going to spend a few hours there.
E: Yes, but I thought if we got there that night, we could sleep there, and then leave in the morning.
J: Can we make it there in one night?
E: No, we can only make it to Fredericton. So I cancelled the reservation.
J: A friend of mine said we could save some time if we took this ferry, and then drove up to Cape Breton instead of going through the Bay of Fundy. The ferry takes about three hours.
E: How do we save time? It looks longer, plus we have to spend all that time on the ferry.
J: I don't know.
E: It'll take us three hours to drive from Fredericton to Cape Breton this way. Unless you want to go to Halifax.
J: Ray, you still want to go to Halifax?
R: Sure.
J: You know, going to the Bay of Fundy is going to mean a big detour. We have to go all the way down here, and then back up this way.
E: It's a pretty small detour compared to the whole trip.
J: I guess.
E: I have a feeling we're going to be really tense by the end of this trip.
J: Why?
E: Well, I'm a "do or do not" kind of guy.
R: What's that?
J: There is no try. Just do or do not.
R: Oh.
E: I tend to make quick decisions, and I don't want to be driving past some tourist trap while we're arguing about whether or not we should stop.
J: I'm just trying to put all the options on the table.

August 7, 1999

What is Wrong With You?

My house guest is starting to get on my nerves. We hardly see each other, but when he's here, he takes over even though he's trying hard not to. It's just his nature. The best example is how we use the bathroom. I go in there in the morning for about 20 minutes, and I don't go in there again except for a few 1-minute breaks. But "Kato" goes in there for 5, 10, 15 minutes -- whatever it takes to deal with his stuff. After he's done, he might brush his teeth, then floss, then gargle. And he takes reading material in there. I'm forced to wait, and I consider my options. I could walk to Le Bifteck restaurant and use their bathroom in five minutes. I could drive to work and use the washrooms there in eight minutes. Finally, he's out, seemingly unaware and unconcerned about the increasing amount of pressure I'm under. Wednesday can't get here soon enough.

August 22, 1999

Back from Vacation

I just got back from travelling around the Maritimes with a co-worker and his friend. It was more work than I expected. I'm working on a special travelogue. Can't talk now. Must sleep.

August 26, 1999

The Matchmakers

My co-worker and her sister are trying to find me a wife. I think they had been planning this for a couple of weeks. The co-worker already knew my psychological profile from an on-line test, and she knows my work habits. I don't know what they told her about me. They gave me her name, phone number, quick psychological profile and biography. They urged me to call her right away ("Did you call her yet? Why don't you call her now.").

Since then, I overhear the matchmakers plotting over the phone. What I said, what she said, who makes the next move, who is doing the right thing. I have to give them verbal reports, too, so they know what is happening in the field. It's a bit disconcerting, being somebody's project.

August 27, 1999

Asshole!

Some people don't have much of a sense of humour. Coupled with a thin skin, they are unpleasant to be around for long periods of time because everyone else has to pretend to be nicer than they really are. So it was this afternoon. One of the students in an operations support department is leaving, and she was being taken out to lunch. I was invited along -- the only person from the other support department, apparently. We got to Boston Pizza and had begun ordering. One of the coworkers started talking about how she can't eat too much meat. Then when the smokers lit up (it was a smoking section) she demanded everyone shift so the smoke wouldn't blow all over her and interrupt her breathing. Everyone was ragging on her. Then I said something, and she snapped. She hurried out of the restaurant and walked away. Then she came back to talk to the student privately. She didn't even look at us.

I had seen this kind of behaviour in high school ("You just don't understand!" [sound of door slamming]). While she and the student were away, I predicted the kind of conversation they would have -- "I'm sorry for leaving your party, but I just CAN'T STAND those people. They have absolutely no idea what I'm going through. Have a good time and good luck at school. I'm going back to work/home." When the student came back, and she confirmed my predication.

The co-worker's manager looked apologetic. No-one else did. In any case, the co-worker is leaving for New Hampshire, and she'll use this little anecdote ("Thank God I left there when I did. It was a good job, but those people were hateful.") to impress her new "friends" with her superficial maturity and false sense of upward mobility.

September 1, 1999

"I kicked the ball, and there it was at the back of the net."

I organized another departmental team building activity. This time it was soccer at Centrepointe Park. I booked the field. I got the prizes. I got the orange drink (not orange juice, orange... er... drink) from McDonald's. I checked the weather -- cloudless, 27 C. I hyped it in e-mail and over lunch. This was my baby.

There are about 20 people in the two lab operations departments, so I figured we could cover the field if everyone showed up. Of course, we work in a high-tech environment. Exercising, especially playing outside, is not a priority. Only half the people came to play. The operations manager (my boss' boss) and another operations employee (purchasing) came along, too.

The first 30-minute game was fairly slow. With six people per team, covering the entire field exhausted everyone. It seemed to me I was the only one still able to run after five minutes of play. But most of the others were standing and waiting for the ball to come near them. I played left or right wing, streaking up the side lines and setting up passes in front of the net. Every time my side scored, I'd yell "Gooooooooooal!" and run around like those FA stars. I'm sure everyone else thought I was acting like an idiot.

After that game, we retired to the warm shade of some trees. The sun was scorching, and I was gulping down that orange drink. We sat lying on the grass for about ten minutes. It was generally decided to halve the field. Some people had to leave, and some new ones arrived, so the teams were adjusted, but the level of play did not improve. I kept making passes ahead of my teammates, thinking they would be able to meet the ball, but they could not. But I did get into an on-going trash talk with one of the software guys. We got into battles over the ball and shoving matches, and when our respective team's scored we made some smart comments.

I got the deciding goal in the last game. I sped up the middle, dodging people, and got a break away. I scored easily against the 50-year-old in net, who I think by that time was suffering from heat stroke. As people came to join us, I uttered that line from Monty Python. For my efforts, I got the 400-gram chocolate bar, for having the most energy.

September 3, 1999

Reader's Digest

I just read John Ralston Saul's book on Canadian identity, titled Reflections of a Siamese Twin. Basically, he applies the Socratic method to the myths and mystifications of Canadian society. He never falls into nationalistic jingoism, perhaps because most of the book talks about how Canada works, despite itself.

I got a bunch of "dark" books from an order company. Hubert Selby Jr.'s collection of short stories Song of the Silent Snow is about marginal people who are isolated by choice or circumstance. And I got a book by Michael Gira called The Consumer, which I think is about a cannibalistic psychopath. One of the jacket comments describes the book as "repulsive."

September 6, 1999

Spookville

I went for a walk along the canal this morning. It was raining, but I had my umbrella. Around 10 am, I happened upon the tail end of a 10k foot race. The police had blocked off the corner. An organizer at the barricade was cheering people on. Further up the road at the drinkstand under a bridge, the organizers were playing dance music. They whooped whenever someone passed by. At one point, a pair of pretty women in bright, form-fitting outfits jogged by me. They were not in the race. The brunette smiled at me as I lifted my umbrella so she could pass underneath. They turned to cross a bridge, and all the guys watched them. The very last racer was a lonely weightlifter, who was managing a walking pace. He seemed to be staring at some distant point, confirming my suspicion that joggers are a little funny in the head (unless they're brunettes in form-fitting outfits).

I decided to stop for coffee on Elgin. On the way to the shop, I happened to be behind a harried-looking fellow. We walked at the same pace. He started looking behind at me. I think he thought I was following him because he crossed the street and started walking on the other side. So further on, I crossed too. I was debating whether to wait for him, but I was already at the coffee shop.

September 11, 1999

Look at the Puny Earthling

Today was a rare great day. It was sunny with a nice breeze. I got up early and had breakfast at The Great Canadian Bagel before heading to the gym. I got my skates sharpened. I bought big glasses from IKEA, and some Tupperware. I filled up my fridge. I did laundry, then I went for a walk. When I got home, I downloaded important information about the hockey season. I spent the rest of the afternoon reading.

September 17, 1999

Mr. Entertainment

Yet another goodbye lunch for yet another person leaving the department. That makes three since I arrived in May. The network administrator asked me to organize this one. He didn't want his name attached to it because the co-worker leaving was not particularly liked or respected by anyone. So, I booked the restaurant (Mama Mia's Italian Buffet) and got the gift (Crown Royal) and the card ("Goodbye and good luck") and announced it. The guy seemed to enjoy it, not that it would matter if he didn't.

Now I'm the de facto expert on office parties. My manager wants me to book other team building events (if a goodbye lunch to a disliked co-worker could be called team building).

September 18, 1999

What's new?

An anonymous source complained to my parents that my bitter thoughts about my bad relationships are not suitable for the Internet. So, this entry has been deleted.

September 19, 1999

"Squeeze your ass !"

While I was going to the weight room at the gym, I overheard that line from an aerobics class this morning. Those women are lucky I'm not the instructor: "Squeeze your ass! Make it tight! Now squeal like a pig! Squeal!"

Today was an unusual because for the first time in three weeks I knew someone there. Two of the guys who played volleyball this summer were doing bench presses and tricep exercises. They're student interns. One of them took the time to point out my bad form and how to improve it. It just confirmed my personal opinion -- I don't know what I'm doing, and people are probably laughing at me. So he spotted me, and I spotted him. For 15 minutes I had a gym buddy. It was a pleasant change from my usual routine of skulking to the water fountain between exercises.

September 21, 1999

A View from the Bottom

I went to an information session on the latest corporate marketing strategy. It looked a lot like the old strategy, except there are new acronyms, and the marketing department is at the top, and marketers will make the most important decisions. I have worked with marketing students. They're great at making PowerPoint presentations, but when it comes to making a product or working with people, they fail.

The manager who presented this seminar must have a marketing background. He had a great PowerPoint presentation, but reality got in the way. First, there was no remote control for the screen projector (it's been missing for weeks), so everyone had to gather around his laptop. Then his screen saver kicked in, and he would invariably stop it by clicking the mouse, causing the slide show to advance. Then he would try for a minute to figure out how to get back to the previous slide, fail, stop the presentation, start it up again, and flip through to the point where he left off. This process happened a few times. I tried to help. I suggested to him how to move back and forth between slides, but the manager just said, "No." Then I suggested he de-activate the screen saver. He ignored me.

So, it's easy to see how "poor communication" is consistently highlighted as the top problem in every employee satisfaction survey. The really funny part is that this is a high-tech corporation trying to be on the cutting edge of technology (so everyone keeps telling me), and some of the middle managers don't even know how to use a laptop. Give me that hundred grand salary, and I'll show you how to point and click.

September 28, 1999

I'm in My Happy Place

Rules of Business

Applying the Rules of Business

Lessons Learned