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Sphere of ArchivesJuly 1, 2002What I Did on July 1, 2002
July 3, 2002Bask in The Infinite Compassion of TammileeFinally I played the Abs of Steel video I got from a friend over two years ago. I expected the quality to be badly degraded, but it was crystal clear. There was eternally cheery and supportive Tammilee Webb telling me that I was going to be in great shape (if I also did a bunch of other stuff like work hard and eat right). I started at 'Part 1', the basic level. The warm-up was very confusing, involving stepping right and left and moving my arms around. At one point, I bumped into the wall when I nearly tripped myself. But then it was over and I got to lie down, which is my favourite exercise. Over the next ten minutes, I felt the warm empathy radiating from Tammilee while doing sit-ups. O, Tammilee, as I stretch during the cool-down, each breath brings me insight and clarity. July 9, 2002The Longest DayI'm at work. I have nothing to do. Absolutely nothing. No phone calls. No e-mail. No work to re-check. The managers aren't in today. Half the people in my department aren't in today, judging by the quiet. I read on-line news and magazines. I played Nethack for over an hour. Then I went down to the deserted games room and played pool by myself until I got bored. The clock on my PC reads 11:15 am ... ... I just got out of an hour-long conference call discussing a test plan. The first ten minutes were spent waiting for people to join the meeting. The last fifty minutes were spent listening to the project team figure out what they wanted to do. They still aren't sure; the meeting ended because their meeting timeslot had ended. I just know they want me to do something sometime unless I'm too busy, and then someone else will have to do something. On a side note, Nortel's stock price fell 10 cents today. July 13, 2002Redeemable Qualities"You owe me big time." With that, I ended the phone conversation with one of my managers and proceeded to the office on a sunny Saturday afternoon. A critical server in Texas had failed during what was supposed to be a standard upgrade, and I was the only support person (on the entire continent, apparently) that could be reached on the weekend. I had to fix it. There was money involved, but there was also the chance of political gain for the operations department. I was missing Blues Fest for this. Long story short -- problem solved after two hours on a multi-city conference call. The official procedure for the software upgrade was missing some important information. Clarions sounded. Streamers fell from the ceiling. And then the war started. July 16 -- The e-mail war, that is, between the group that write the procedures and the people who test the procedures. "The procedure is wrong because we had to do this and this." "Those new tasks are unnecessary." "No, they aren't." "Yes, they are." At least I got a nice thank you message from the top manager, who is "honoured" to work with "dedicated, hard-working" people like me. July 20, 2002A House in MargaritavilleThe party was supposed to start at five, but the first people didn't show up until six-thirty, and then it was just the guys. The women were picking up more booze. It left me plenty of time to cook the burgers. I had brought my computer down to play MP3s, and Ken took advantage of being able to play "Bad Touch" repeatedly. A bunch of other people who were expected never showed up. We stood in the kitchen and sipped magaritas and waited for the party to start. A little after seven, the ladies arrived and we moved to the sunny patio, glasses in hand. Steve's fiancee saw my MP3 collection and decided we had to have an All Eighties Request party -- "Any New Order? (yep) Animotion? (sure) You have Rick Springfield!!!" After more beer, wine and rum, we were doing mimicking Pat Benetar's dance moves from the "Love is a Battlefield" video. On it went, until around midnight when my patio table collapsed, so we moved inside and started dancing in the livingroom. We finished off the margaritas. Ken put on "Bad Touch" again, and I started flicking the lights to the beat as the women watched him. July 29, 2002"C'est un petit chat."My friend Ken is trying to learn French so that he can earn a promotion. The levels go from 'A' (rudimentary) to 'E' (fluent). Ken is shooting for 'B', and he has asked for my help with pronounciation and grammar. The test is at the end of August. He intends to spend two hours every night studying from a French reader and listening to French radio stations in his car. So far, it's been good. The stories in the reader are probably elementary level for francophones kids, so they aren't difficult to understand. I've played songs from Niagara and Me Mom and Morgetaler as we followed along with the lyrics. Bonus: not only do I get Tim Horton's coffee on Ken's dime, I improve my French enough to get a managerial job in government. July 30, 2002Leave Me AloneAt work, the phone will NOT STOP RINGING! People call while I'm checking my voice mail. People call while I'm answering the people who interrupted me checking my voice mail. Finally I can check my voice mail, but now someone else is calling. Four o'clock -- I'm off. August 2, 2002ZephyrTypically, the day I'm going to leave on holiday is insane. My plane was scheduled to leave at 1:45, which meant I had to catch a cab by 12:30, which meant I had to leave the office by 12:00 in order to get home and get my bag and catch the pre-ordered cab. Naturally, all the groups I support want work done before I leave, and naturally they wait until that morning to ask me to do it. Everything is marked "urgent." I had to ask one of my co-workers to call a cab for me because I was too busy on the phone and answering e-mail. As luck would have it, I made the cab and the flight. I like flying WestJet. The ticket people act so sincere when they say there are no more window and aisle seats. "I'm so sorry. (sob) I will perform ritual suicide now." Whatever, as long it's quiet. I was greeted in Thunder Bay by my brother who was bearing a martini glass filled with tap water. No alcohol allowed in the lounge area; it makes the coffeee booth attendant feel bad. Then I was whisked off to my parents' fortieth anniversary party. I brought the music -- three CDs of the 50s and 60s sound downloaded from the Internet. They were a hit, the jewel cases being covered as they were with the hip cachet of "Internet" and "e-music". August 5, 2002It's The Long WeekendThe family spent the weekend at Hick's Lake. It was sunny and hot. My mom and I went rowing down the lake after supper. She had one side and I had the other. We couldn't get co-ordinated. My strokes were always too heavy, and she had the wind against her. She did two or three strokes for every one of mine. On the way back, I rowed us both against the wind -- yo ho ho and a bottle of Grand Marnier. Dogs truly are chick magnets. I took Lucy down the camp road on Monday morning. We jogged most of the way to the end and back. On the way, we passed several ladies (no men) walking their dogs. There was no problem approaching them. "Oh, what a cute dog!" Too bad I'm not a dog person, or even a mammal person, barely a plant person. And you can't walk a house plant. At least, not if you want to be taken seriously. August 7, 2002Great SnagI went back to Hick's Lake with my older brother and his friend Dennis to fish for pickerel. Over the two days, Dennis caught a dozen of so fish, of which he kept three. Jeff caught a few. I once got a serious snag. Those snags can sure fight. August 10, 2002Great Big FishIf there's such a thing as a lazy fisherman, I am such a person. I would also describe myself as incompetent or "bad". Today I went fishing with my friend Kevin for salmon in the Nipigon River (up Highway 585, by Nipigon). Over the course of the evening, I lost three of his big lures, plus nearly capsized the boat in the turbulence near the hydro dam. Good thing I didn't, because that would have been embarassing. One of his friends managed to catch a 10-pounder. Salmon look pretty, a bright silver colour, not the pinkish tone smothered in butter that I'm used to seeing. Around ten o'clock, a thunder storm began, forcing us to end our futile expedition. I got soaked trying to get the boat back on the trailer. On the way back to the city, I boogied to "le bangra" and other super dance hits on a francophone radio station. August 11, 2002A la recherche du temps perdusMy parents wanted to retake a photo of themselves to commemorate their marriage. We drove to Corbett's Creek, which is down Pole Line Road. We used the original forty-year-old photo to find the exact spot. The place had hardly changed. The trees were a bit different, and the water level was lower because it was late summer, not spring. My parents sat in the same pose perched on a little overhang, not an easy thing to do anymore. August 20, 2002Qu'est-ce que c'est? C'est un petit chat.Teaching my friend how to speak French is exhausting. But I'm not really teaching. I'm just listening to correct pronunciation (which is pretty bad) and provide the meanings of new and strange words, like "compromis" and "lait". I tried teaching at first, but my friend complained that it was getting too hard to remember anything. Also, he doesn't need (or necessarily want) to be bilingual, per se. His goal is to pass the test with minimal work so that he can earn a promotion. He insisted that I stick to correcting him as he read aloud from a text. No more attempts to translate French text. No more on-the-fly conversations about his day. I can tell he's very stressed about the upcoming test. His throat often becomes dry, and his lips stop working. Classic symptoms. I wish him luck getting his grade "A - barely coherent". August 19, 2002Destroy the Lawn in Order to Save ItThe interior of my house is almost done. Now, I turn my attention and resources to the yard. Take a look here. August 22, 2002I Like to Do DrawingsIt's so slow at work that I've started on a barely useful pet project. Between games of Nethack, I'm drawing a large dry-erase version of the 1X networks I support on a big white board that doubles as a cubicle divider. Several people have already commented. Everyone is going to be impressed. That is, until my manager or some other prankster comes around with a damp cloth and wipes it into oblivion. One positive side effect -- one guy has already given me the new nickname of "Simon". I'm not going to say what my current nickname is. August 22, 2002I'm Not SlackingI'm not slacking. I'm writing this e-mail on my prototype Blackberry. I'm sitting on a park bench outside in front of a large pool on the company's Carling campus. To the ignorant observer, I'm doing important work from my always-on always-connected mobile office. August 30, 2002"Meanwhile, in an alternate reality..."The director called the department for a "coffeee meeting" this morning. The request was made the same day that the company announced more layoffs, so I was prepared for the worst. But I was a bit surprised that it wasn't a headcount to determine whose name would no longer be mentioned except in hushed conversations. Instead, it was a public thank-you (from a quiet speaker in a noisy lobby, but public nonetheless) from one of the lab groups. A couple of people in the department had been key to getting the lab running with very little downtime after the move, and they got special attention. The rest of us got to bask in their radiant glory. This is good for the director because he doesn't have to personally thank and reward everybody who was involved in the background, just a few favourites. I tell myself not to be bitter. September 1, 2002Now We're Buuud-diesI've spent the entire long weekend working on my yard. I've hauled nearly 150 cubic feet of topsoil to the back (down the street and through the public access to Eric's yard), set up the boards to make the tiers of lawn, set up the flower beds, set more lockstone, and spread some around the front to fill in some holes. The people on my street have noticed. My neighbour Jeff offered me his square shovel to better pick up the dregs, and I offered him my wheelbarrow so that he could take away some of the extra dirt for himself. "Buddyhood" represents a maturity and growing trust in neighbourly relations. Tool exchange is perhaps the defining point of this process, and is often highlighted in conversations with friends with such phrases as, "My buddy lent me his shovel," and "My buddies are coming over to watch the Sens." Late on Sunday afternoon, one of my neighbours ran over and brought me a can of soda pop. He said I looked like I needed it. I don't even know the guy, and I can only guess at the ulterior motives behind it. My buddy Jeff said his wife wanted him to build a lockstone patio in their yard until she saw me struggling to build mine. Jeff thanked me for that one. Maybe this guy is in a similar situation with his wife regarding landscaping. FYI, here's graphic showing the current state of the backyard. No pictures yet, but for sure when it's done. September 2, 2002Mano a Mano: Part 1My manager returned from his holidays today. I was determined to ask for a private meeting with him to discuss my "future", such as it is, in the atmosphere of announced layoffs and general misery and ennui. I was sort of prepared on how I would make my approach, but then he ruined it. He initiated the conversation and said we could meet anytime. What, did he see my resume on the Intranet? Am I a marked man? September 3, 2002Nightmare Revisited From a Safe DistanceI couldn't believe it myself. There was a message on my answering machine to call "Angie" at Royal Holidays for some "exciting news". You remember Royal Holidays, don't you. They're the people who sucked me into buying a time share after luring me in with a "prize" I could never use (and couldn't even give away). Did they think I'd buy another time share? On the other hand, maybe it was good news. Maybe they were going to give me a refund, or were going to buy it back. So I called Angie. Angie: "Eric, I've got some great news... uhm... (quiet shuffling of papers). You've been selected to win a prize as part of a Royal Holidays promotion..." Me: "Okay, no thanks. And take me off whatever mailing list Royal Holidays has me on." Angie: "Okay. Thanks" Morons. September 4, 2002Mano a Mano: Part 2The director and my manager stopped by my cubicle around lunchtime. The director did all of the talking. He said I was doing a great job. He said that some people in the groups I support had told him privately that they were very happy with me, and that they had tried to hire someone in their own groups to do my job, but had given up. He asked if I'd seen the VP's webcast this morning, and I said I had missed it. The news is that there won't be ten percent cuts across the board in Wireless. Instead it's ten percent of the 7000 layoffs will be from Wireless worldwide, and ten percent of that will be in Ottawa. He re-iterated that I was doing a great job -- overworked, underpaid -- and regretted that there weren't any promotions or raises possible. This is terrible news. My one-on-one with my manager is tomorrow morning. How can I whine and complain now? Oh yes. They definitely saw my resume. September 5, 2002Mano a Mano: Part 3My manager took me over to the Tim Horton's coffee booth in another lab area. Not only is the coffee better than what's available for free in the coffee room, but it's unlikely anyone there would be interested in our conversation. We found a small table by the window. I really had nothing to say at this point. He repeated what the director had said about my performance yesterday. And he added that everyone would get raises and/or promotions when better times arrive. Foolishly perhaps, I asked if there was any more work I could be doing. As it happened, there is, which is why he wanted to talk to me in the first place. There's another project that was being handled by the vacationing LAN administrator that suddenly needed some work. I happen to be the only one who might know what to do. Well, there's no money in it, but it'll be great exposure. September 7, 2002Master of the PieI rule Trivial Pursuit. I played a fast version with my friends last night. I brutalized them in the first round. For the second round, I offered each of them a handicap wedge of their choice, but they said it wouldn't be fair. After some time, though, they decided I would have to answer two questions to earn a wedge. It didn't help them. At the end, the hosts said they were going to burn the board. September 16, 2002I'm A Sociopath, And I Can Prove ItMy friend Ken called me from his cell phone while he was driving. He had a puzzle for me. Ooh, a puzzle! Here it is, with my interjections.
The answer is: she killed him so she could me the stranger at another funeral for one of her relatives. If you manage to somehow figure this out, it's certain proof that you are sociopathic. Ken was quite proud that he figured it out, apparently gleeful that I did not. I guess sociopaths hate competition. September 19, 2002Dead CellMy car wouldn't start this morning. Crap. I was already behind at work, and this day was no doubt going to include the usual surprises, and now I was going to be late. I called CAA. The mechanic arrived after about 45 minutes. He charged up my battery, and advised me to let the car idle for 20 minutes. I asked if the battery would last a few more starts. He said he wouldn't make any bets. So, should I get it replaced right away, or wait until after work? It had to last a couple of more starts, at least. I drove to the old building because I had to pick up some hardware -- patch cables, a circuit board, and so on. I got back to my car, and it wouldn't start -- dead battery. Now I was going to be really late. It was almost ten o'clock. I called CAA again. While waiting, I checked my voice mail and found out there was an emergency meeting on a big network problem called at the last minute at the new building, and I had to attend. I phone conferenced in for the first 20 minutes, but had to leave when the CAA guy showed up to replace my battery. I finally got in around noon, just after the meeting ended. One of my co-workers who was there told me that it got pretty bad. A project team member started dissing me, saying I wasn't providing any training on the equipment and that his team was still in the dark about what was going on. Everyone couldn't believe what he was saying, the co-worker said. He added that my manager stood up and said my job wasn't to train people, and that if he didn't understand the network after working on it for the last two years, maybe a lack of training wasn't the problem. But now the big gun was being called in. He's from Network Engineering, and knows a lot more about certain pieces of LAN equipment that are new to me. In the middle of our intense troubleshooting, someone from that project team called asking me to do work on something else. So, is the high-priority LAN issue no longer high priority, or is this guy just stupid? I don't know for sure because my manager was there, took the phone from me and talked to him. But it gets better. The same person later sent an e-mail to me and copied my manager and the director on it, urging me to answer burning questions about LAN throughput, such as:
At the end of the day, we had a better understanding of what was going on. We even had a few options to fix it. And the project team spoke, and they were happy. I was exhausted. September 21, 2002Country RoadMy mission: buy sod. After dumping some rocks I dug out of my yard at the municipal waste facility, I headed south and proceeded to lose myself among the farms and tree-lined roads. I consulted a map several times, but still managed to miss key turns. About 90 minutes later, I found the sod place. It was closed for the weekend. |
