Snuffed

You can meet some really interesting people smoking at airports. I'm told that Amtrak (which at least used to have smoking cabins) has the same benefit.

Of course, the last time that I lit up at an airport, it was a bad thing because it was at the beginning of a trip that I had designated "non-smoking" that became smoking starting with that light.

But that temptation will now start being a bit removed because lighters will be banned past the security checkpoints at airports. That leaves matches, which I suck at lightning, and apparently even those may be banned as well.

I don't really know how to feel about this. On one hand, I want a demonstrable threat before our lives are inconvenienced by the government. I don't mean planes have to blow up first, but I do need it explained to me what danger the lighters pose when not used in conjunction with something that isn't already banned. I remember that Richard Reid dork tried to do something with fire (matches, I believe), but I can't remember what.

But yeah, on the other hand, I don't want a plane to explode (or worse yet, run in to something again) just so that I am not a little inconvenienced.

Interestingly, with the ban in place for lighters in checked luggage, if both lighters and matches are banned from carry-ons, it could make things more than just a little inconvenient for frequent fliers. Having to buy and discard lighters and matches in every town gone through.

Okay, so we're talking about a whopping 99c for people like me that don't lose lighters with startling regularity.

Yeah, we smokers can be a petty bunch.

And, of course, part of me wonders if this isn't just another attempt to marginalize smokers. Not that there aren't security concerns, mind you, but that possible objections were dismissed because "They're just smokers and they should quit anyway."

Yeah, we smokers can be a paranoid bunch.

On a last note, Apparently Texas (the source and focus of the article) has more stringent anti-smoking regulations at airports than does Deseret. As Gazelem International Airport in the state's capital city, they have indoor smoking areas that are closed off (it's like a fishbowl!). In Houston's airports, they don't allow any smoking indoors whatsoever.

Whodathunkit?

Turnover And Out

The Reports Department at FalStaff has a relatively high turnover rate. By the time I was six months in, I was already in the upper-rung of seniority.

The problem is that while our job is largely a thankless and monotonous one, it's also a rather important one. Reports that we make go to the IRS, EEOC, and government agencies of local, regional, and national levels. They are contracts dictating the terms of employment and unemployment. Small mistakes can have a pretty significant impact, even if they're just in the employee handbook. And the longer we do this, the better we become at it and the less errors occur. But then people move on and someone new takes over and makes the same mistakes all over again.

The company has been rightfully concerned about mistakes being made. Concerned enough to supply training? Well, not exactly. But honestly this really is a learn-as-you-go kind of job. Concerned enough to pay us more than $9.50 an hour? Honestly, you could pay someone $19.50 an hour, but if they have a college degree with training in XHTML, VB, C-language, and SQL (as many here, including myself, have), they're going to go absolutely nuts doing nothing but report generation day in and day out and eventually quit.

Don't get me wrong, giving us more than 4x2' desks in 4x4' cubicles with a bump in pay and a little more respect would help, but the ultimate problem of turnover would exist.

That leaves the company only a couple of options. They can keep their employees by offering them a ticket out of Reports or they can keep them there so that they have more experienced people making the docs. In the case of the former, they lose the experience. In the case of the latter, they'll still lose the experience, albeit not quite as quickly. Additionally, in the case of the latter, you lose knowledge that would be helpful in higher up positions.

It really is a catch-22. So far the company's response is to continue to hire rookies, get irate when they make rookie mistakes, and push them out the door for the next set.

I use FalStaff as an example, but it honestly applies to a lot of different employers. CMG, a contracting company that handled tech support for a large satellite company, accepted the fact that most people can only take getting yelled at by customers day in and day out before they burn out. So they pay just enough to get them in the door and automate the process as much as possible. But the same problem exists. You either take them off the phones or they'll eventually leave the phones and the company on their own accord.

Weimarcorp, another former employer, made an art of the turnover rate. Benefits kicked in at 4 months and the average turnover was 3.5. They'd overstaff the entry-level with overqualified individuals. Those that made it nine months looking at blinking lights in the middle of the night would then get moved out. But they had the process so automated that someone new could do the job in their sleep. They lost very little whenever they had to replace employees and they were able to seperate out the employees that would literally do anything for a paycheck, so it worked out extremely well for them. And it lead to boredom that would make just about any employee quit, which meant they never had to pay out benefits.

But for the most part, there are a lot of unpleasant jobs out there that you can't pay people enough to do. With that reality, unless you can automate it to the degree that Weimarcorp did, I'm not sure much of anything can be done. You have to accept a lot of mistakes and, to a degree, you have to accept a customer screaming in your ear cause a rookie made a rookie error.

Which FalStaff has. Except that they reserve the right to chew us out whenever that happens.

Which leads to a higher turnover rate.

Meeting Notes 3

Six quotes from my boss Willard at our meeting today:

"We're taking too long on reports." -Willard

"We need to take the time to make the reports look good. We need to be proud of the reports that we put out." -Willard

"We're falling behind. The stack is getting bigger." -Willard

"So in addition to what we're doing already, we're going to add eight more steps to our Report process." -Willard

"Double-check, triple-check, quadruple-check the reports to make sure they're right." -Willard

"We need to get things done here at a faster pace." -Willard

Coffee Phone

I haven't had this mobile phone for particularly long and I haven't come close to figuring it out. I can't find the manual and besides, as a man, I'm duty-bound not to read the directions anyway.

But the phone is kind of cute in a little way. To avoid waking Clancy up I've taken to using the moby for an alarm. It's soft enough not to disturb her but loud enough for it to wake me up. (on a side note, the alarm sound is basically a ring. Some day someone is going to call early in the morning and I'm going to hang up on them cause I think it's the alarm.)

But some days the moby puts a little coffee icon on the upper bar. I have no idea why or what it means. Except that it seems to only show up on days where it takes me longer to get myself out of bed and the phone has to go off a few times before I get moving.

The phone is giving me a suggestion, perhaps?

In the Shadow of the Temple

I haven't really dug in to the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-Day Saints all that much yet, though there's certainly more to come. I don't view the Church is being particularly evil or anything of that sort, but some of the resentment and frustration I do have is summed up pretty well in this article from the Washington Monthly:

Until I attended one, I didn't fully realize that [the] public schools are essentially an extension of the LDS church. All junior high and high schools in the state [...] are arranged so that there is a Mormon seminary building either right next door or across the street. Grade-school kids don't go to seminary, but they do go to "primary," a similar after-school program. Mormon students are allowed to take religious classes as part of their public education in these buildings.

There's been a great deal of litigation over this school set-up, dating as far back as the 1930s, but so long as the seminaries are on private land, there's nothing illegal about it. Allowing kids out for religious education during the school day has a pernicious effect on public-school life. So many kids leave for these classes that it automatically singles out the few non-Mormons who don't participate. For one year, I attended a public high school and frequently found myself abandoned in class along with a few Hispanic kids while everyone else trekked over to seminary.

The church stretched into public school life in other ways, too. In high school, I had Mormon bishops as teachers who never missed an opportunity to bring the church into class lectures. Prayers before every event were common and coaches often blessed athletes before sporting events. My swim team would collapse into a crisis if we were expected to compete in meets in [bordering states] on a Sunday. Many of the Mormon kids on my team honestly believed that if they swam on Sunday, the devil would create an undertow that would drown them. Graduation ceremonies were held in Mormon tabernacles, and school choirs sang Mormon religious songs.

Until fairly recently, many public schools annually celebrated "Missionary Week," when Mormon kids were supposed to come to school dressed up in the uniform of the LDS missionary---which they were all aspiring to be. Non-Mormons might as well have put big signs on their heads that read, "Convert Me."

The author accurately describes the area as "Unspeakably beautiful." Driving around today reminded me of that. Clancy is a real nature lover and it's not hard to see why she fell in love with this place (if not its people). It's also, by all accounts, an outstanding place to raise a family... if you're LDS.

When residency is up, we won't be staying in Deseret. It's not because we dislike the Mormons or even because of some of the states policies (some of which do an extraordinary job of helping folks walk the straight-and-narrow). We don't have access to a number of "public" parks because they're private parks for public use and we're not the public they have in mind. I we have kids here, they won't be able to play little league. They'll be on the team, but they won't play. Once it becomes obvious that they aren't going to convert (assuming they wouldn't), they'll also disappear from social circles. There was a "super-Christian" social circle back in Dixona, but out here it's so much more far reaching.

It's not cause they're jerks. Almost all of my coworkers are LDS to one degree or another and we get along fine. So are our landlords. But their social life is built around a club that we're not a part of. The social norms and laws are set up for believers of a faith that is not ours. This state was founded by Mormons and for Mormons. We're just tourists.

We knew that, of course, before we came here. And we're happy here. But maybe you just have to see the snowcapped mountains and green fields to understand what a tragedy it is that we've no stake to claim here personally, culturally, or religiously.

Have Another Cigarette 4

The rebellion has come to an end. For those of you that have forgotten, the Smoker's revolution was borne when LeeAnn came on to the company, bringing along a helper and convincing Rosa (who had just given notice) to go ahead and just start smoking at work instead of going to her car and smoking there.

Today is Rosa's last day at FalStaff. This is unfortunate for me because she and I have been getting along extremely well in recent weeks, talking as we smoke.

I don't get along as well with LeeAnn, largely due to the language barrier. It's strange being able to talk to someone (she reads lips) who can't talk back. I can pick up some responses (nodding, smiling, etc.) and some of the more obvious signs, but that's about it.

Today she told me that she plans to quit smoking as soon as she finishes her current pack. I'm not sure whether or not it'll take, but I hope it does for a few reasons. Other than her health, I've been a bit worried that she wasn't aware the damage she may be doing to her future at this highly LDS company by being tagged a smoker.

But this company has a delightfully short memory and if she does quit they'll forget she ever smoked.

And that actually leaves me out there smoking alone again, which I think I prefer anyway.

Meeting Notes 2

Today we celebrated Simon's birthday...

Marcel: Hey, does this cake have gluten in it?

Jarvis: Yeah.

Marcel: How do you know?

Jarvis: It tastes good.

---

Me: Does anyone want this piece of cake on my plate right here?

Herman: No, thanks.

Goeff: That's okay.

Marcel: Wait, is that your third piece?

Me: No. I had a piece and then half a piece of another cause whoever took it wasn't thorough.

Marcel: So you've had one-and-a-half?

Me: No, just one. The half was someone else's. They just weren't thorough. And if you're having a birthday party for a coworker and get a piece but aren't thorough by that, you forfeit the rights to the rest of the piece and whoever assumes the rest of the piece is not debited for as much taken during the transaction.

Jarvis: You've been working on legal documents a little too much lately, Will.

Me: I know.

---

Marcel: I think Simon should get a second piece cause it's his birthday.

Jarvis: Why? It's not like he chipped in or anything...

Good Love After Bad

I wrote a comment on an April Fool post talking about loves past and present. Both her post and the comments are worth reading.

The subject got me thinking about one of the women I was going to spend the rest of my life with... and the one that I eventually managed.

All things considered, my ex Holly and I dated for way too long. Shortly after we got together one of her exes re-entered the picture. Things got messy when she left me for him, he left her for someone else, and I took her back. They never recovered. We rapidly found the locus of power in our relationship to be firmly on her shoulders. That made me feel powerless and her feel burdened. I was always mad and she was always aloof.

The biggest issue was that she stood me up over and over again. I eventually started keeping a spreadsheet. I can tell you with a reasonable degree of accuracy that in the last six months of the affair she showed up on time 12% of the time, 8% of the time she was within an hour, and 13% of the time she was within two hours. When she wasn't within two hours, 7% of the time she actually showed, 41% of the time she did not show up but called to let me know she wouldn't, and 52% of the time she did not show up, did not call, and most of that time (I don't have stats for this) she would avoid me for a few days.

I'm not trying to demonize her. She was going through a lot herself. My behavior was not helping a thing. On one hand it was obvious that I was completely devoted to her. On the other hand I kept telling her that I couldn't take it anymore. She said that she might start being more reliable if she wasn't so worried about making me angry. I said I might stop getting angry if she'd stop standing me up.

So why did we both stick around? Because we loved each other. To this day I believe we did.

Flash forward a couple of years and I meet my now-wife Clancy at a Christmas party. It was a long distance relationship, but we made it work. The most amazing thing wasn't how much I felt as quickly as I did - and I felt a lot, very quickly - but how easy it was. How she would come down on weekends when she said she would and she was able. How I wasn't mad at all when she had to cancel. How problems were brought up and remediated quickly.

That's not to say we never had disagreements. We still do. It's also not to say we've always been perfect to one another. We haven't. There were a couple times when we almost parted ways. The issues we dealt with were sometimes very difficult, but the relationship itself never has been.

What a lot of people don't seem to understand is that relationships are not just about whether you love someone or how much you do. It's about how you love that person. It's about what that love motivates you to do. It's about who it motivates you to be.

Within weeks of meeting Clancy, I realized that she made me want to be perfect. Or at the least as good a man as I could possibly be. From the moment I realized that to the day of our wedding day was a long, winding technicality.

Security

FalStaff's new COO hasn't taken up work residence yet, but his ideas are already being seen on every entrance to the building.

I was actually taken aback by the lack of security when I first arrived. My previous two employers were borderline maniacal. But FalStaff is a small company in a town that only appears in small print on maps (if at all). Someone would have to go pretty out of their way to target us for corporate espionage.

But nonetheless they have these lame signs now on every door saying that visitors need to sign in and all convenient doors are now locked. But the biggest joke is that we got an email telling us to "alert" them to any suspicious activity or any people walking around that shouldn't be.

Given the high turnover rate, someone could probably pretend to work here for weeks before anyone had any idea that they weren't actually hired. I see a new face at least once a week. The staff of this company has grown by about 5% a month even discounting turnover.

Not that I care.

I just shudder to think what his Internet policies are going to be. Willard is going to see if we can start getting IM privileges. I think we'll be lucky to still have email privies.

Greyskull Industries 2

When Greyskull Industries did their presentation on their pyramid scheme, I thought I might send out a joke email assuring them that I am not at all interested in (a) buying scented soap on a monthly basis or (b) pursuing a business opportunity that is built on convincing others to do the same.

I thought that instead of doing that I would remain gainfully employed by not alienating the company that let those pricks in.

One week and fifteen solicitations later, I wish I would have just sent out the email.

Lessons learned, lessons learned.

The Meaning of Cubicle

Now that Simon has moved to QA and I have not, the cubicle by the window is now open. My boss Willard set up a competition which we would get ten minutes to explain in 1000 words or less why we are deserving of the cubicle. Honest to gawd, the following was my submission (only the names changed):

Willard,

Once upon a time, I saw a sign on the street. It said, “Office furniture and ‘cubicles’ for sale. I couldn’t help but notice that they put the word “cubicle” in quotation marks and I asked myself why they did so. Has the word ‘cubicle’ not really not entered our collective consciousness to the degree that we still need to put quotation marks around it? Is there a reason that we should doubt the terminology involved? Is this a euphemism for darker things? But what could “cubicle” be a euphemism for? The dark hole in which one spends his days? And yet I can’t help but feel that a cubicle is a cubicle is a cubicle. Not that they’re all the same mind you – I relate all of this to you in a campaign in order to achieve the High Cubicle By The Window after all – but a cubicle is generally defined as three or four walls in a desk. I’m not sure why it’s called a cubicle when it’s actually square, unless you count the third dimension, but if you’re counting height off the ground then my head is actually above the cubicle and therefore either I extend slightly beyond the size of my “cube” or I am hitting my head without realizing it.

But yet the term is strange. Am I to doubt the cubicleness of the place we work? If it is in fact a cube, aren’t height, width, and physical height supposed to be the same? I don’t have time to get out a tape measure for ours, but it might be 4x4x4’ and thus fit the definition completely. And yet other cubicles in this office do not share all three dimensions of the same size. Is there such a thing as rectangubal? I knew I should have paid more attention in geometry class instead of passing notes with my new-fangled (at the time) graphing calculator.

But by virtue of the fact that I put so much thought into things involving cubicles, and by virtue of the fact that I want it, and by virtue of the fact that Marcel is the only other full-time employee with more experience and he has conceded to my desire for the cube, and by virtue of the fact that Edgar thinks I should have it, and by virtue of the fact that I want it, and by virtue of the fact that I need the leg room (let us forget for a moment that the leg room is the same), I should get it.

Thank you for your consideration,

Will

I won.

Feminine Plastique

Clancy and I live in a little basement apartment in a bedroom community just outside of town. The rent is fantastic and our landlords are great. The only problem is that the washer/dryer is located in the basement so whenever it has to be done, they come down.

It also means, as it did this weekend, when I'm revving up to do laundry, the claim can be staked by someone else. In this case it was the Cranstons' youngest daughter, Becki.

Becki is a pleasant enough person, though it's obvious from the get-go that she spends an inordinate amount of time on her appearance. So much so that she has an artificial, plastic-like appearance. She's going into cosmetology at Beck State. A good choice, most likely.

She is also something of a provocative dresser, which is not as unusual in Mormonland as one might think.

Anyhow, her clothes were sitting in the washer when I got up. I checked from driveway and didn't see her car, so I decided to go ahead and push them through so that I could get to our stuff.

Having no sisters of my own and having a wife who is not very much interested in girly attire, I've never handled girly clothes before.

Now, the word "clothing" is derived from the word cloth, but is used more generally to convey anything that we wear in order to conceal and/or to keep warm. Her wardrobe fails at both of these tasks.

There comes a point in the size of underwear that it becomes small enough to become functionally useless. Hers were about half that size. Then there were spaghetti tops and t-shirts that I swear wouldn't have fit me when I was eight. Becki is thin, but not that thin (though, gauging by the couple of bras that I handled, thinner than she might like in some areas). Part of me wonders how she fits into them. Snugly, I'd guess, and snugly by design.

Last night I had a dream. I was at the hospital looking into that room where all the babies are. My little girl was particularly beautiful. So much so that all the nurses kept telling me how beautiful she was - and not just in a polite kind of way.

The joy of my pretty little girl was replaced by sheer horror at the prospect of her teenage years, looking as pretty as Becki, just as fake, and terrifyingly with a similar wardrobe.

Email Idiocy

The newhire and member of The Rebellion is a deaf girl named LeeAnn. It was actually she and her job placement specialist (came and helped her settle in) that convinced Rosa to join me out there for her last week with the company.

In any case, LeeAnn set out a company-wide email informing us that this building used to be the Mocum School for the Deaf and Blind before they closed it down and that she always wanted to go to that school and was glad to be working in the same building.

In a flash of brilliance (and amnesia, he forgot that she was deaf), my coworker Geoff decided to send a company-wide response to the effect of: "But if you're deaf and blind, it probably doesn't matter where you work!"

Mindy, the office manager living in fear of having to replace another member of the McDepartment, went into a panic. She contacted the IT guy and got the message deleted before LeeAnn got back to her computer.

Meanwhile, nearly every department sent an emissary to Geoff's desk to let him know that she was deaf and his comment could have come off very offensively. He went from shrugging it off to being worried to being quite annoyed (by the sixth or seventh person to approach him).

I guess you had to be there, but my coworkers and I were laughing our heads off. Not at LeeAnn, to be sure, but at Geoff, his dumb sense of humor, and the mess he found himself in.

Then another coworker - equally unaware of LeeAnn's impairment - sent another company-wide email making fun of another coworker by equating his mature age with senility (and senility with deafness).

And everything flew into a frenzy again.

By the time this was all finished, the lawyers crafted an Official Response, our entire email system was shut down to prevent further catastrophe.

LeeAnn, meanwhile, did in fact get both emails on her PDA. She shrugged it off, saying that she was used to it.

That's good for Geoff, good for the Legal Department... but not really a good thing.

Gator Theory

There's an old joke about two men in the woods that are confronted with a gator. When the gator starts charging, one the the gents starts tying his shoes. The other fellow says "You honestly can't expect to out run a gator, can you?"

To which the first fellow says, "I don't have to outrun the gator. Just have to outrun you."

Whatever comes of the promotion opportunity, the good news is that I was a candidate. This is important because Edgar, my neighbor to the right, has been here a whole two days less than I have. While I technically have seniority over Edgar, for appearance sake it would have been better to have all four of us in there in case two of us declined (viewed strongly by management as a possibility, part of the reason they sweetened the pot). The fact that he wasn't was significant.

I've been worried about not making enough progress fast enough. I've been worried about being pulled into a meeting or, even worse, let go. Not that these worries have any merit exactly, but once I was paranoid and they really were out to get me, so I am not quick to disregard such thoughts.

But I don't have to outrun the hand of unemployment. Right now, I just have to outrun Edgar.

And so far I am!

Male Bonding

It doesn't matter what kind of guy you are. Whether you're an artist or a jock or the nerdiest of nerds.

Watching an industrial shredder take down a refrigerator, block of concrete, a washing machine, and a whole lot of other stuff is a whole lot of fun.

My department (all guys) spent our entire twenty minutes watching this beautiful thing and bonding over it.

Establishment Rule

Barry of Inn of the Last Home is not too sympathetic to parents that skipped out on a meeting with school and law enforcement officials regarding the truency of their children:

But the point is that when a child has 10 or more unexcused absences, that's when inquiries need to be made and actions taken. If the child is legitimately ill, then there shouldn't be a problem getting the absences excused. If the parent or guardian neglected to follow through with explaining the absence, then it's their own fault and they have nothing to complain about.

The problem I have is that the whole attendance/truancy issue is a crock. If a kid is skipping school then the parents need to be informed, but I'm not sure the parents should have to defend themselves on this one. As long as the work is getting done, it's a family matter.

To me, the issue comes down to two things:

1. Money


2. Control

How much money a school gets from the government is based in part on attendance. Back east, the "official attendance" was taken at 11:00am. The school would honestly nod and wink at you just as long as you were there at that time. When our school made the state championship in basketball or football, they'd even say "Let's wish our boys/girls luck on the field this weekend. If anyone is going to have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, we strongly suggest that they have it after lunch. That would leave plenty of time to make it to Capitol City in time for the game. Theoretically."

Okay, so they weren't quite that obvious about it, but the message came through loud and clear: be here before lunch.

When I was in junior high, I would have these coughing spells. They'd send me to the nurse right up until 11:30... then they'd send me home. Never, ever before.

The second issue, control, is also a big factor. But as far as the school is concerned, the public school system exerts a lot of control over the lives of children. And they want to keep it that way. That's one of the reasons that they've made homeschooling nearly impossible in some areas (Nevada and I think California), why they oppose vouchers, and why we have compulsory attendance and truancy laws to begin with.

I'm not one to argue that there is some conspiracy to brainwash our young. In most cases, it's lead by good intentions (though money is a factor, too). They honestly believe that they are trained professionals that ought to be given the reigns to educate the next generation. In some ways they are. But the degree of resistence to alternatives is also built around making themselves indispensable.

Theoretically, they should have no problem with kids coming in on test day and taking care of the studying parts on their own. But even outside financial reasons, the more parents do that, the less essential teachers become. Through truancy laws and compulsory attendance, they have both job security and the mandate to do what they were trained to do.

I'm not trying to knock teachers and school administrators. I am a product of the public school system and my future kids will be too. They're underpaid and underappreciated. And while they are admirable on an individual level, the establishment they collectively embody has its own agenda.

Unwanted Promotion 2

There were three of us offered the promotion, but they told us that all three could take it if we wanted to and that it was not absolutely required that two of us accept.

Simon accepted almost immediately. He's building a house and needs the extra money. Marcel and I spent the whole day glaring at one another, basically each deciding that "I will be the second if you don't want to." So it was an impasse of sorts.

Today Marcel broke the impasse and has decided to go ahead and take the promotion.

So this is the best of every possible world for me.

First, I was offered the chance to go to QA. They honestly didn't have to extend to me the offer. The other two have been here twice as long as me and they could have made sure that one of them didn't want it before moving down to me. So I am honored to make that cut. It makes me feel a bit more secure in my job.

Second, with the two slots they wanted to fill now filled, I am not under any pressure to accept. With Marcel deciding to do it, I'm leaning against. But I'll mull it over for another day or so.

Simon, Marcel, and I all shared four basic concerns:

1. Hilton Wilde is in charge of the QA department, and none of us are quite sure about him. Since taking over QA he's made our life a lot more difficult. He's not a particularly friendly person and our current boss, Willard, is the most friendly person I have ever met.


2. Right now we are creating things. What do we do? We make reports! There is a sense of accomplishments. All QA does is make sure that docs that are created are correct. It's like being on the offensive line: the only time you're noticed is when you screw up.


3. Theoretically, with some procedural changes, our current job is poised to get a lot easier. Things will get a little easier for QA, but not nearly as much so.


4. This company has a short memory. Several months ago they cancelled quarterly bonuses in favor of a "performance-based system"... that hasn't been put in to place yet. That will probably never be put in to place. For good and for ill, this company has a problem following through with its plans.


5. Then I had a fifth one: Last week I decided that it was time to look for work elsewhere. Ironically, that was because I couldn't take the position that I was in anymore. Except that I spent most of Monday worried that I might get transferred out to a less desirable position. But the long and short of it is that if I need to miss work for a job interview, I can do it where I'm at. Under Hilton, that might be more difficult.
   

On the upshot:

1. More money.


2. Bigger cubicle.


3. A step up the ladder.


4. All roads out of Reports go through QA. If I don't go to QA, I'll not be going anywhere else, either (may not be an issue because by the time I were to get promoted out of QA I won't be living in Deseret anymore).


5. The raise being offered now may not be offered later. They might bring out the stick instead of the carrot.


6. As much of a Pain in the Butt as Hilton is, we've butted heads with him being active in the defense and advancement of his department. He's probably a lot better to work under than he is to work against.

So there we stand...

-{Background: Unwanted Promotion 1}-
-{Background: Working and Living Space}-

Working and Living Space

So I was offered a promotion today at work. Thoughts on that to come, but I stumbled on some thoughts while cogitating the possible promotion.

One of the least pleasent aspects of my current position is the cubicle. It's 4x2' and chairs are inevitably knocked any time someone needs to pass you. It's so bad that OSHA actually had to get involved at one point (a post for another time). For a job that deals with generating paperwork, it's counterproductive.

The cubes at the position I would be moving to, on the other hand, are pretty spacious. Unnecessarily spacious, actually. I'd have room for all of my paperwork and as many pet rocks as I desire. Maybe even a pet cow. And my mouth salivates at the prospect.

I've been talking a lot to the other two candidates about the pros and cons of the transfer. We also talked about medicine, diet, and computer games. We talk a lot at work. What we're doing doesn't require our whole concentration and... we're all packed so close together.

It reminds me a little of our old apartment complex. When my wife Clancy and I first moved out west, we stayed in this little spithole of an apartment. The rent was unbelievably cheap, but we were extraordinarily cramped and our neighbors a bunch of vagabonds and druggies.

But because we were so packed in, we got to know all of our neighbors despite an extremely high turnover rate. the lack of space inside encouraged us to spend a lot of time outside. The lack of space outside meant that we were spending that outside time together. I knew more neighbors from that apartment complex than I had known from any prior. I got to know people I never would have thought to talk to otherwise.

Being tightwads, we figured that we would be able to take it as it came, but we weren't. Now we live in a basement apartment in the sleepy suburbs to our sleepy bedroom town. We've got a lot of room and unlike at the aforementioned complex, we feel safe there. At the same time, we both lament that we haven't made any friends out here.

In the past I've lamented not making friends at work. While I don't know if I'd call my current coworkers "friends," it's close enough. We talk on a daily basis. I know them all pretty well and they know me pretty well. It's enough that my introverted soul is usually happy to find the quiet solace of home once I get there.

But I move, everything changes. I'm sure I'll be on friendly enough terms with my new coworkers. But I won't have as much reason to talk to them. In fact, the only reason I'll have to talk to a lot of people (including the people I currently work with) is to tell them that they've done something wrong. But a lot of it is just that we won't be sardines in a can.

I like my space, both literal and figurative. One of the many ways that my wife and I get along is that we're both that way. But one of the reasons that we're so isolated, despite religious differences and her demanding job, is because we don't go out and seek people. As miserable as our current cubes are at work - and as rough as the old apartment was - it forced us not to isolate ourselves.

Even though we're both particularly introverted, even our extroverted society is affected. Many people start off in apartments and get houses. One of the reasons they get houses is because it gives them (and their kids) more space, both inside and outside. The larger the house, the larger the yard, the better. I guess the person that dies living in a house furthest from his nearest neighbor wins.

The same is true at work. Only pitiful underlings get the kind of cubes that we deal with. Work hard enough and you get a bigger cube, and less contact. Work harder still and you get an office with a door that you can close to the outside world.

Department Meeting Notes

Willard: A lot of the interviewees are talking about when they're going to graduate.

Marcel: Why?

Willard: I think that's there way of telling us that they want a promotion of they're going to try to get a job elsewhere. I mean who wants to work in Reports with a CIS degree and a minor in business.

Me: Hey wait a minute...

Willard: What?

Me: I have a degree in CIS and a minor in business.

Simon: And do you want to be working here?

Will: Good point.

Unwanted Promotion

Imagine, for a moment, three coworkers huddled around one of their cubicle.

They were just invited to a meeting. Two of them are going to get a raise and promotion. The third won't.

Imagine, for a moment, the three people each trying to come up with the best reasons they can why they should be the one to not get promoted.

I don't have to imagine it. I was one of the three people party to the discussion.

Have Another Cigarette 3

The Tobacco Battle continues.

Friday night as I was leaving, I went to the usual smoking place to discover that the butt can we put out there had disappeared and that it had been emptied onto ground.

My first thought was one of concern. Was that the downstair company's way of telling is that we shouldn't be smoking down there?

But they have been nothing but nice to me down there. Most of them know me by name. Even the company's director has said "Hi" as he sees me going to my little space. And it's not aesthetic because they have cans outside their other two doors.

And if it was them, why would they leave butts everywhere?

Talking to Rosa today, we strongly suspect it was one of our more pious coworkers upstairs trying to get us in trouble.

At least I hope that it was.

-{Background}-

Office Supplies

ThinkGeek is offering the famed Red Springline Stapler from Office Space.

I was at FalStaff less than a week before I got my stapler (not a Springline or even a Boston, alas). But I'm told that way back when the company refused to furnish a stapler in every cubicle. Instead they had a community stapler that we'd go to whenever we needed one. The problem is that we deal with a lot of reports. Database generated reports is actually what this department does! So in addition to getting up to use the printer every five minutes, we'd have to get up again to use the stapler (not everything in a packet we staple together comes from the printer).

Management finally caved and bought the department staplers and rulers (another product they were stingy on, despite having to measure whitespace for legal requirements in some states and counties throughout the country). And so that is marked as one of the rare occasions where the department scored some sort of victory in the office supplies battles.

But today I feel a sense of sadness. If they didn't supply us rulers I was going to go ahead and by myself one.

Now I realize I could have gotten a red springline.

About Will Truman

I was born on leap-year day in 1976, making me about six years old (or 29, depending on how you look at it) at the writing of this bio. I was raised in the suburbs of Tangramayne, Dixona with my two older brothers. I decided to go in to computer work when I was in high school for reasons that escape me right now. Something about getting a good job and liking to work on computers. Neither seem true anymore.

I went to college locally at Southern Tech University, majoring in Computer Information Systems (CIS). While at STU I met Julie, the girl that single-handedly denied me the "college experience" and nigh-certain insanity. I graduated with an honors degree in 1999 and promptly found work as a "Y2K coordinator" and night operator for a computer reseller named CRI.

I lost Julie, the job at CRI, and plans to go back to school in a tortuous couple of months in 2000. By then the economy had already hit the skids and finding work proved to be much more difficult. Lacking work, finding a girlfriend proved pretty hard, too. The first problem was settled when an STU alum hired me to be the solo IT person for his small manufacturing company. I also met Hurricane Holly, who came in just as I was finding some sort of inner piece and made me feel things that I had never thought I would feel again. That included intense pain. We parted for the third and last time in late 2002. I lost the job at Wildcatter shortly thereafter.

Due to a huge local employer getting caught-up in the Enron scandals the year before, the job market in Harrington was pretty bleak. And as long as I was unemployed, so was the ladies market. It was through a mutual friend that I met Clancy Hardwick, a wayward medical student back for the holidays. We quickly partnered up and the prospect of marriage was almost immediately discussed.

To avoid moving back in with my parents, I took a job with Weimarcorp, the absolute worst employer in Dixona. When it came time for her to choose a residency program, I had little keeping me in Harrington and I decided that I was going where she was going. She was matched with a position at Beck State University in Deseret and we got hitched and hitched our wagon to move out west.

Clancy and I live in a basement apartment. She's a second-year medical resident. Since getting up here, I've worked as phone support for a satellite company and presently as a programmer - of sorts - for a company that handles administrative chores for companies too small or too cheap to handle their on HR matters.

I have two older brothers, one in Dixona and the other in Texas. Clancy and I have no offspring nor any immediate plans to generate them.

[Most recently edited on 3/21]

About This Site

I've never been on time for anything in my life, so it suits that I was late for the "blogging revolution."

I can't imagine that anyone cares about my suburban white boy politics and I don't have any great new insights into how the world can be a better place. Even though it's my profession, I don't really keep up with computer technology enough to warrant a blog in that area. Linux is great, but I'll leave the advocacy to those who really know what they're talking about.

But I do about my life, so I'll post on that. Most of what I write will revolve around work. As such, I'm making pseudononymizing people and places in order to avoid getting canned maintain my privacy. If I wanted to write something fictional, I'd write a book for publication or at least respectability.

My wife is a pretty busy person and since I can't bitch and moan to her every day (we don't even get to see each other every day), I'll bitch and moan here. Hopefully, it'll be the entertaining sort.

Right now the site is called Hit Coffee, named after an obscure comic book character. For some reason (I make no claims of sobriety at the time) I decided that if I ever started a blog, this is what I would name it. I eventually sobered up, but when Blogger asked me what to name the site, since I hadn't decided I opted to take a name I knew no one else would want so that when I picked the real name, I wouldn't have rent staked out where someone else wanted to be.

Disclaimer

The opinions expressed on this site do not represent those of my employer, family, friends, coworkers, or even myself.

Names have been changed to cover my butt.

Places and other entities have been pseudononymized to kick a little more dirt over my tracks. Some connections are pretty easy to make, others are not.

But if I wanted to write fiction, I'd write a book or something. This is about as true as I can make it while maintaining some sort of privacy and being entertaining.

I'm sure there's more that I'm missing here, so I'll update it periodically.

Payday

FalStaff is not good about getting our checks to us in a timely manner. They decline to do direct deposit so that they collect the interest of that extra week lag-time between the end of a pay week and paycheck day. They've also taken to moving the time we get the checks further and further back because Dudley Fallon (the company's president's father and moneyman behind the operation) is too pusy to sign his name 150 times.

This honestly doesn't bother me much. I don't live hand-to-mouth so I'm one of the few people not stalling lunch so that I can cash my check over it. (There's actually more to this story, but it'll wait for another time.)

But rather than admit that the Mr. Fallon has better things to do than make sure we're paid in a timely manner, they've announced today that they're no longer issuing checks prior to 5pm "to make sure employees don't leave early."

If employees leaving early is a problem, it needs to be addressed. I haven't noticed it (in fact, few leave before 5:30). If management goofed and just didn't have time to sign it all, then tell us and life will move on.

But it's more than a little agitating to cover for for management by treating us like a bunch of children with a little carrot to get us to do what we are supposed to do anyway and, to the best of my knowledge, have been doing.

It makes me want to leave before 5pm and get my check Monday just to be petty.

Monster.com Day 2

Nothing cures a Monster.com Day like an atrocious job climate.

Even though I still call them Monster.com Days, Monster doesn't actually have much of a presence here. Most of the jobseeking is done through the the state's employment agency and the newspaper. Between the two I found one job that I was even remotely qualified for that might be slightly better than my current one.

Instead, I applied to be a vice-president of a bank in Toledo.

I wait with baited breath to hear back.

Monster.com Day

The Monster.com Days started a few jobs back when I was working for a manufacturing company called Wildcatter. The Wildcatter job was probably my best, but since I was the sole IT person and what we did month to month depended on whatever contract the company got it was very erratic and stressful at times. On top of this, my boss, while a good man, was an utter crackpot eccentric inventor that was not very skilled in the area of interpersonal communication.

No matter how good a job, there are days that are insufferable. On really tough days I would get so angry that I would spend the whole drive home figuring out how I was going to brush up my resume and log on to the day's namesake, Monster.com, and look for work.

I would usually be a little cooled down by the time I got home, but I'd made the promise to myself 50,000 on the drive home. So I'd log on to Monster, send out my resume to the jobs that I was least likely to get, declare victory, then go to bed.

Today was a Monster.com Day.

The Black Guy

FalStaff is approximately 96% white. There are a handful of people of indeterminable ethnic origin (some combination of Hispanic, white, and Amerindian). There is, as of a month or so ago when he was hired, one black employee.

While racism could theoretically be involved, I seriously doubt that it is. The area itself is that white. Coming from the south, this is an adjustment for me.

Since the black guy signed on, I can't help but ask myself the question: Why is he here?

Not at FalStaff, but in non-urban Deseret. They may face more racism in the south, but they have some strength in numbers there. Pick any urban area and you can see why they might feel at home there.

It's not often a white boy can talk about being a minority, but not being a member of The Brethren gives me at least some claim to that. My experiences tell me that being surrounded by people that are almost universally not like you can be enriching, but after a while gets frustrating.

Even if they're well intentioned, I don't put much faith in people to look past my religion. I certainly wouldn't put faith in them looking past my skin color. Especially when it isn't necessary. What does Deseret offer that California or Texas or even Georgia doesn't?

But I guess the answer came during the company meeting yesterday. His face lit up when he saw another employee (from a regional sales staff, so rarely here).

Turns out they lived near each other at BYU.

So that answers that.

Company Time

I think someone, somewhere at this company punched some numbers and determined that the 2-3 paid hours we were taking for our monthly business meetings were costing the company a great deal of money. So today they were quick to usher us back to our workstations.

Bummer.

The Families Business

Dave Fallon, the younger brother of Don Fallon, the company's president, announced his resignation as COO. Between the Fallon brothers and Dudley Fallon, their father and part owner, it's largely been a family business. So Dave is out and was replaced by Gary Hansen. That now makes three people from the Hansen family in CxO positions (CIO, CTO, and now COO), making it a families business now.

Greyskull Industries

Across the street from FalStaff is Greyskull Industries. I'll write more about Greyskull at some later date, but the pseudonym should give you an idea of what I think of them. But Greyskull is one of the bigwigs of this town and so it was a surprise to see him make the announcement of the younger Fallon's resignation.

But then we found out why. Greyskull is starting another venture. You pay $10 a month for scented soap. It's more than you would otherwise pay, but the trick is that if you convince someone else to pay $10 a month in soap, you get $2 of that. Convince six people to and you're turning a profit. Then, if they convince someone else to, you get $.50 of each of theirs. So if all six convince six more, you're getting an additional $18.

From what I understand, prosecutors call this sort of thing a pyramid scheme. <wiseass> The federal government, though, calls it "Social Security."</wiseass>

I Want My Money Back

One of the perks this company offers is a free soda fountain downstairs. Bad for the beltline but good for the pocketbook.

It's been broken for two days now.

I had to go out and actually buy a drink.

By the time I got back, of course, the machine was working again.

I want to send the company an invoice...

McJobs at FalStaff

The Processing Center is apparently one of the least desirable places (the second least, in my estimation) to work for FalStaff. Incoincidentally, it's also the area they have the most trouble recruiting and keeping staff. It's mostly staffed by high school kids. The president of the company has actually referred to it as "The McDonald's of FalStaff."

Their most recent hire is deaf (which is why she has the employment person I've referred to with her, helping her get situated). At the rate their going, I suspect they will make a lot of use out of the hiring agency they got her from, which specializes in the placement of the disabled.

I was talking to aforementioned Processing Center Girl, now called Rosa. Apparently, the newest employee passed a note today asking when raises were.

There are no raises here. Particularly in that department (and only barely in ours).

I get the feeling the new employee is pretty disappointed since they probably promised her periodic reviews and raises.

They always promise that. Yet honestly speaking, the only time I've ever gotten a raise is when I got my college degree. Beyond that, no matter how grand the promises, there's never been a raise. I think employers figure that if you're willing to start at a particular wage, it's impolite to ask for more, regardless of the promises made. Most supervisors get really evasive when the topic comes up.

I've pretty much stopped asking.

But before long, Rosa is going to be out of here and the Processing Center is going to be short staffed again.

And management is going to be wondering why they have trouble keeping personnel.

Rule Number Six

How much better life in the corporate world would be if Rule Number Six were followed:

Two prime ministers are sitting in a room discussing affairs of state. Suddenly a man bursts in shouting and stamping and banging his fist on the desk. The resident prime minister admonishes him. "Peter," he says, "kindly remember rule number 6," whereupon Peter is instantly restored to complete calm, apologizes, and withdraws.

The politicians return to their conversation, only to be interrupted yet again twenty minutes later by a hysterical woman gesticulating wildly, her hair flying. Again the intruder is greeted with the words: "Marie, please remember rule number 6." Complete calm descends once more, and she too withdraws with a bow and an apology.

When the scene is repeated a third time, the visiting prime minister addresses his colleague: "My dear friend, I've seen many things in my life, but never anything as remarkable as this. Would you be willing to share with me the secret of rule number 6?"

"Very simple," replies the resident prime minister. "Rule number 6 is 'Don't take yourself so g--damn seriously.'"

"Ah," says his visitor, "that is a fine rule." After a moment of pondering, he inquires, "And what, may I ask, are the other rules?"

"There aren't any."

Of course, how much less work would we get done?

Have Another Cigarette 2

The revolution has suffered a setback.

I was wondering why Processing Center Girl was suddenly willing to brave smoking in view of coworkers and management.

Today I got my answer.

In an office-wide email, her impending resignation was announced. Suddenly it made a lot more sense. If you're not planning to stay anyhow, there's really no reason to worry about it. That's my main rationale.

So the revolution continues, soon to be two and counting...

Taking Work Home

For a little while longer, they have us using a freeware HTML application at work. It can't read what we do, but unlike notepad it's got pretty colors. It's actually a pretty good program. While I generally use Crimson Editor at home, the newest version is either totally madwack or doesn't work on my computer. So I went to download.com and got the editor I use at work.

It's really a solid program, but there is something aesthetically wrong with it: The inescapable feeling that if my monitor was 4" smaller and I was in a 4'x2' cubicle, I'd be at work.

Weekends solely exist so that I don't feel like I'm at work.

Have Another Cigarette

Blind to the wind, the news and the culture
Deaf to the sound that leaks from your voice
Take a deep breath and pray for a second one
Have another cigarette
-Splender, "Have Another Cigarette"

Since moving to "Deseret", I've become more acquainted with Mormon culture than I ever thought I might. As most people know - and I already knew - they're not big into the whole "smoking" thing. I, unfortunately, am.

My only other employer in the area was an international company with a more-or-less secular outlook. Most of the other employers in the area, however, are run by members of the Brethren and tend to legislate approach smoking along those lines (to the extent that the state hasn't already, which isn't much).

The long and short of it is that they strongly discourage smoking. While they don't go as far as to ban smokers from working there (as a former employer out east in "Dixona" did), it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that my vice would not go over well.

In an office with 150 employees or so, I am the only one you'll ever see smoking. Periodically an irritating coworker named Paige would join me, but for the most part I've been out there alone or with the company that occupies the floor below us.

On one occasion, I was hanging out in the breakroom eating lunch when someone in the Processing department - whom I'd never spoken to - came up to me and expressed admiration for my "bravery." She isn't the only one that has said as much to me. Apparently I wasn't the only smoker. Just the only one that wasn't worried about losing my job.

Since the outside of the building is operated by the company downstairs, there isn't anything they can do about my smoking down there, so I can't be fired. It has, however, become clear that I do not have a future with this company because of my personal vice. First, it makes the fact that I am not LDS abundantly clear (which matters out here) , but mostly it's that I'm not only a heretic but a sinner.

But today, for the first time, the Process center employee joined me. Not only her, but a new employee, and someone from the employment agency that placed the new employee here were out there as well.

On one hand, it's inconvenient. I smoke in part for solitude (which, like that Nicorette commercial, is ironic because I used to do it to meet people). But now that there are more than a couple of us out there I'm a bit worried that the company is going to find a way to crack down or that the company downstairs will get worried about liability or somesuch and they'll cut me off.

But that's okay. The way I see it I'm leading a private rebellion.

Three and counting...

Daddy Union

I called up the folks last night to talk about this and that. I got a lot of friendly flack from Dad about getting the oil changed on my car and taking care of an ongoing problem with my bank.

Once a father always a father I suppose. What's funny to only me is that "flack" usually falls on Mom's shoulders.

Dad sent me a follow-up email on one of the tax issues that he and I discussed. He opened it with the following paragraph:

We enjoyed talking with you last night. We appreciate your calling and checking in. Sorry if I sounded like I was getting on your case about
things, but they would throw me out of the Daddy's Union if I didn't
ride you about something.

Daddy Union membership has its benefits.

The Baby Bug

So what was happening 5-10 months ago?

Conceptions. A handful around the office. You can tell a lot about a person by what they name their child. I was named for relatives, which is probably the most neutral. And it's more difficult to go wrong that way.

But most of the names around here either come from religious texts or some grasping for some sense of uniqueness or just a "Gosh that sounds pretty."

Yesterday Cadence Martin was brought into this world and an email to that affect went around the office. Given what I know of her mother, the name "Cadence" - even for a boy - surprises me not a wit. I'm surprised it's not something Super Unique like Gaedwyn or something.

But just as common are religious names. I wasn't surprised when one particular coworker has named her (existing - at twenty-six, she's got some breedin' years left and so there are more to come) flock Isaiah, Moses, Sariah*, and Alma*. I am not only unsurprised by the religious nature of the names, but the degree of religiosity, whether it's Paul and Jacob or Nephi* and Helaman*.

The more of my peers I see having children, the greater tragedy I see in someone's first identifying characteristic being made my someone who won't be saddled with it for the rest of their life and made (at least partly) with the purpose of self-expression. Of course the kids won't see it until their generation names next.

They'll do as I did and assume that everyone ought to be named Jason or Jennifer. Except that it'll be Kaden and Madison.

Part of me wants to make predictions and go around and ask the mothers-to-be what they are going to name their kids. Not sure I want them to think I really care, though.

* - Prominant figures in the Book of Mormon, which is a big deal 'round these parts.

Dangerous Office Supplies

Everyday office supplies I've discovered that you can hurt yourself with:

• Pencil


• Pen


• Stapler


• Ruler


• Tack


• Scissors


• Staple remover


• Staple remover


• Staple remover


• Staple remover


• Staple remover


• Staple remover


• Staple remover


• Staple remover

No Birthday

No birthday this year.

But in three short years, by my calculation I'll be seven years old.

Best Power Outage Ever

We had a power outage today.

I was test-printing a series of documents. Ordinarily I run through the whole list before walking a grueling twenty feet to the printer, but since the power was out I decided to go ahead and collect what had already been printed. Upon reviewing my printouts, it became apparent that I was printing the wrong page. Therefore the power outage saved me time.

My computer has an odd bug on it. For some reason, nothing I download to the Desktop actually goes onto the Desktop. It goes in that folder but is nowhere to be seen. Since I can still access it through Explore, it's no big deal. Kinda annoying. Upon rebooting the computer, the wayward icons flooded by desktop. Therefore the power outage fixed my computer.

My cubicle neighbor Charlie had been working on a document for over an hour. He hadn't saved it. Upon rebooting the computer, it became apparent that he had lost all of that work. Therefore Charlie says if I mention again how this has been the "Best Power Outage Ever" he is going to "kick [my] fat ass."