Category: general

Where I put something when I’m too lazy to categorize it.

Posted on

washing cars


Happy Monday, in the new bizarro world where I go to work every morning.

I’ve been thinking lately about my longer-term career prospects. I think, providing I can maintain it, my current employment should provide a usable path to a lifetime career and decent retirement. What’s more, I do, more often than not, like what I do, and even take pride in my work on occasion. So, it’s not quite “meaningless toil” to me, which I feel is good. However, there are times when I begin to think that I could be just as fulfilled, if perhaps not more, doing any number of alternate jobs. I’ve often thought, for instance, about “running away” to somewhere in the rural Midwest. Maybe driving around through the farm-based heartland until I find a decently populated town which could use a little PC –repair shop. Somewhere where I could buy some land, go to work at my little storefront on Main Street, get to know the populous: who’s courting whom, who’s sister just had a baby, who’s marriage is on the rocks because Henry’s too fond of the sauce, that kind of stuff. When I think about “having money” in terms of “sustaining a happy standard of living” instead of “building a fortune,” these kind of alternative job-lifestyles really seem attractive.

And now I’ll totally change the subject. At the risk of talking about work, which, as a policy, I don’t do here – I wanted to write down some thoughts from Dave’s Management Playbook. Here goes:

One of the things I find difficult about being a manager is dealing with peoples’ constant desire to “do something more.” Don’t get me wrong: On the surface, aspiring to the “next big thing” is great. In fact, it’s often what you look for in employees, that yen to land the bigger fish, to take whatever they’re doing to that next level. It’s also, in some regards, the kind of attitude that often gets rewarded in the workplace. However, there are some boundaries to this “moving up the ladder” task-tackling-strategy that some folks don’t seem to understand. The biggest problem I see with people who have this mindset is that they seem to forget the limitations of their present job-role when they ask for “something bigger and better” to work on. As a manager, I’m looking to get you ahead – it’s an integral part of my job to help develop you. If you’re my performer, I’m always trying to get you that “high visibility” thing to work on, I want you to succeed and excel because, when you do, it makes us both look good. There are limits to this, though, and some people seem to understand them – while others don’t. Let me explain.

Here it is in a nutshell: If you want something “bigger, better” than what you’re currently doing, make sure that whatever you choose or suggest fits within the context of what you currently do at the company.

What do you mean, Dave? Well: If I managed a car wash, and all we did at the car wash was wash cars, I wouldn’t expect an employee to come to me and say something like, “Dave, I’ve been washing cars here now for three years. Next year, I don’t want to wash cars anymore; I’m tired of that kind of ‘mundane’ work. Everyone here washes cars. Instead, I’d like to paint cars. As my manager, I expect you to support my career decision.” Yeah. OK. Look buddy, this here business is a car wash. At the car wash, we wash cars. If you want to paint cars, go get a job at the car-painting place. If you work at the car wash, you should expect your job to involve washing cars. Just because everyone else, from the newest new-hire to the most senior car-washer, washes cars, doesn’t mean that work is “mundane.” In fact, at the car wash, washing cars is the most important job there is. There is no job more important, no task more critical, than getting the cars washed. “Everyone” washes cars here because if they didn’t, our business wouldn’t be successful. I fail to see how this is that so difficult to understand.

Now, that being (somewhat sarcastically) said, there is room at the car wash for that three-year veteran to “move ahead” and potentially get to that “next big thing.” How? Well, there are infinite ways, really, but let me dream some up right here. How about coming to me and suggesting some things that might improve our custom? Or, suggesting some process tweaks that may save us time and/or money? You want to do something different? How about coming to me with an idea about offering an interior detailing service for a premium over our basic wash, and offering yourself as the person who’d be in charge, maybe with some supporting projections on the potential financial upside? See, there are plenty of ways you can get yourself noticed, and potentially even shift the bulk of your work away from car washing per se, while still operating within the bounds of our business. As the car wash manager, these ideas will likely impress me, and I’ll be much more willing to bite on them, as they play right back into our core business. I would expect you to remember, however, that, at the heart of things, you still work at a car wash – and, as such, you’d still be expected to wash cars. It is, after all, what we do at the car wash.

Let me clarify that there is nothing wrong with working at the car wash and aspiring to someday paint cars. Heck, if that’s what you want to do, and the car wash is merely a stepping stone on your path there – you can expect me, as a good manager, to support you. I’ll even keep an eye out for car-painting jobs which may be open, and be sure to send you with all the good recommendations I can manager. I’ll do this because, ultimately, I’m primarily concerned with you working hard for me while you work for me – and I know that keeping you happy will also keep you working hard. If you can comprehend this, we’ll do well together. But, if you expect me, as your manager at the car wash, to “reward” you for your service by exempting you from the “everyday” task of washing cars, you’re going to be disappointed. I understand that you want to be set apart from the hired-last-week Armor All guy, I do; I’ve been there. But don’t expect a special job that doesn’t involve washing cars. Once again, this is a car wash – and we need pretty much everyone here to wash cars or we don’t make money.

So, workers, never give up looking for your big break. Never stop “thinking ahead” and looking for your opportunity to excel and make your own way. But, unless you’re willing or wanting to change jobs, make sure to look for these things within the context of what you currently do. I understand that jobs get “comfortable,” and it’s tempting to want to do that next big thing from within the comfort zone you’ve built-up in your current position. If you’re looking to make a career move, then you should make your career move. It’s very difficult to make a successful upward career move while maintaining the comfort level you’ve achieved “doing what you’re good at” currently. In fact, this kind of career “slide” or “shift” is only doable by those with keen networking and political maneuvering skills. If you’re the girl at the car wash who expects her manager to reward her by letting her not was cars with the rest of the troops – you likely don’t have the slickness to negotiate one of these “shifts.” And, since I could write a whole other Playbook entry about making those “slick” moves, I’ll leave it at that.

So, what can you, Mr. Car Wash Worker-Bee, do? Let me leave you with some concrete suggestions which will probably get you ahead within the operational boundaries of your business: First up, why not try to continue kicking butt at the car wash? Do better than the car washers you can do better than. Maintain a good attitude and be friendly. Demonstrate to the boss that you understand how important getting cars washed is to her business. Perhaps help her identify ways to wash more cars, or wash the cars you already wash better in the same amount of time. Make an effort to understand the car wash industry, and relate what you’re doing at your car wash to how others are doing things are their car washes. Make connections with people who work at other car washes, mention to your boss that the Southside Suds is doing a two-for-one promo next week, that you heard it from a buddy you know who works there, convince him it may be a good idea to send out coupons for free waxing with every wash that week – show him your knowledge and connections can help him be competitive. You get the idea. There are millions of way to shine at your job, just don’t make the mistake of forgetting what exactly it is you where hired to do when you shine.

There are millions of ways to “move up” at your current job, but unless you also want to “move out,” make sure you’re appropriately tying your aspirations to your role.

Goodnight lovers.

Posted on

those paid suckers


Sunday. Don’t want to go to work tomorrow. Don’t want to go to work period. Just flat out don’t want to go to work. Would like to do most anything otherwise. But, I’m going to work; I am. I’ll be there at 8am, just like the rest of those paid suckers. Doesn’t mean I can’t complain.

As much as I hate the end of daylight savings time for having to leave work in the dark, a little part of me likes it because it it somehow fools me into feeling less lazy with that post-work time. Since it’s dark outside when I get home every evening, I feel less wasteful not taking advantage of the remaining post-work daylight to “get something done.” With no post-work daylight, assuming a position on the couch as soon as I’ve kicked off my shoes and splashed the days’ grease off my face at the sink is just easier to abide. Thing is, even with the extended hours of sunlight daylight savings time affords me, I don’t do much with it. The difference is purely psychological, but it works for me.

This weekend, we finally got some rain. I think it rained all night Saturday – I mean, as far as I could tell in the few times I awoke. I’ve written before about how much I love the rain, sometimes, and this year we’ve been pretty much entirely dry until now. I actually got up early and mowed the lawn at 8am that day, the earliest I dared on the weekend with sleeping neighbors. I beat the rain by a few hours, and it felt good to be done by 10am. The rest of the day was spent indulging in a triad of manly vices: beer, meat, and football. It was a good day, though, despite likely taking a few days off my life in the long run. Who says that’s not a valid trade, anyway, I mean, I had a good time.

I guess, looking back on last week’s lack of writing, that my triumphant return to work had me reeling more than I thought. Despite feeling like I walked back and and picked up where I left off without a hitch, it instead seems that I was indeed adjusting to the grind again. Getting back into the habit of hearing my BlackBerry chirp through the night, heralding each new e-mail piling up in my inbox; trying to re-commit to my short-term memory the unimportant dates which are so important to what I do; and re-establishing those all-important “networking” links by having half-work/half-not “catch-up” meetings with coworkers. In the evenings, I went back to my no-laptop-while-Keaton’s-awake policy, and that hurt the blogging too. Hopefully it gets better… but the fact that I’m forsaking friends right now to type this should speak to my dedication.

Unfortunately, I don’t have more in me. Goodnight.

Posted on

the streetlights come on in two days


Today (Friday) is the last day of my sabbatical. My last true day, although I do have the weekend before I have to actually punch a timecard again. It’s a sad day for me… the end of what now seems like an impossible dream that went way to fast. The non-working, still-paid, man’s life… the life that I fantasize about. But, alas, the life that just ain’t too realistic. And now it’s over. I guess all good things… bah… let’s do this.

Let me tell you about a time I was embarrassed (for no other reason than the story came to me). I think of it often, actually, as it was a fairly recent occurrence, and I think it does a good a job deflating me when my head’s grown too big for its own good. Here goes: For work, I had traveled to a customer site for an important “face to face” meeting between their higher-ups and our higher-ups. Of the higher-ups from my sawmill, I was the lowest-up; but I had a good handle on the pulse of a certain program which was likely to become a topic of conversation at the meeting, so I was included. We all sat in a larger room, seated randomly at a large table in the form a 3-sided square/horseshoe (carefully staggering ourselves so as to not appear a single “front” to our customer, gotta be aware of that, y’know!). I am a pooperface.

The conversation was driven off a presentation on the big screen at the front of the room, but was all largely organic and free-flowing, as presentations to higher-ups tend to be. At one point, the highest-up who’d traveled from the sawmill with me was making a statement about when our customer would get something we’d promised them, and that something was part of the program I manage. The highest-up said something like, “And, you’ll be happy to know that you should be getting ThingZ on….,” and paused as if thinking. Taking this as my cue, and thinking him pausing for the “expert” to jump in and not make him look like he was unaware of the date, I jumped into the conversation with, “I’m pretty sure your ThingsZ shipped on Friday.” What I hadn’t heard, however, was the highest-up completing his own thought shortly after his pause – I had spoken right over his own date with my own, unknowingly, thinking he needed help. The highest-up most definitely did not like this, and apparently took it for the lowest-up trying to trump his piece of good news. The date was earlier than our customer would’ve expected, and I’m sure he thought I was trying to clutch at the glory of that announcement.

Without even looking at me, the highest-up stated, in an arrogant, no-nonsense tone, “Don’t argue with me. I think I know my own ThingZs.” It was like he was a mother on the phone with a friend, and I a child tugging on her apronstrings whining “Mommy! Mommy!” That was the tone he used. I heard his words more like, “Shut up, you know-nothing underling, we all know who’s in charge here.” The words stung immediately, but I was able to react quickly enough to laugh out loud, hoping to play it off as some good-natured ribbing between coworkers. It worked, to a degree, the room joined me in laughing, as did the higher-up, perhaps slightly embarrassed himself at calling out one of his own ranks so in front of customers. Oh but did I replay that quip in my head on the flight home, feeling the snub every single time. Seems a small thing, I know, but it was terribly embarrassing at the time. It does me good to think on it at times, to reign in my ego, get my head in check – even if it was a mistake on my part and no real vie for notoriety. Still sucked getting called out, though…

Nerd stuff coming, beware.

Oh man… I found the coolest thing online today, by pure happenstance, too. Seems that my torrent client of choice, µTorrent, has a plugin called WebUI that allows you to access the client over any standard HTTP connection. I know, this seems kinda nerdy, but I’m’a tell you what it means here next. See, I use BitTorrent to download all sorts of things. Mostly legal stuff, of course, like live concert recordings from sites like archive.org, Dime, Tapecity, and the Trader’s Den, as well as TV shows Sharaun and I follow yet may have missed from sites like EZTV or shareTV. I’ve also occasionally used it to download a Linux LiveCD or two.

Anyway, suffice it to say that µTorrent is open on my home PC, sucking up my broadband on a regular basis. the WebUI plugin for µTorrent allows me to remotely login to the client software which is running on my home machine, from anywhere that has an internet connection, through the standard µTorrent port (which is open on my router). I supply a username and password, and I get a slick-looking web interface where I can manage all the torrents I’m seeding/leeching, as well as add a new torrent, delete a torrent, stop or pause a torrent, etc. You’d think this may be something you’d never want to do, but you’d be surprised when it may be useful to login to a torrent client and delete all your seedings every once in a while. WebUI is awesome. If I wanted to, I could find a cool new torrent online while I’m away from home, logon to µTorrent and add it, and it’d be waiting for me when I got there. Sweet.

I can’t believe I have to go back to work…

Oh, lord… I have to go back to work. It’s over.

Posted on

Master Lieabout von Housebound, Esq.


A few times today and once last night I heard thunder; even saw lightning. I enjoy hearing it; it reminds me of the rainstorms we’d get most summer afternoons back in Florida. Back now from Hawaii, I settled right back into my pre-trip alter-ego, Master Lieabout von Housebound, Esq.. Today was spent reading, listening to music, wrestling with Keaton, and monitoring a few choice IRC channels. I know, I know… you (nor I) haven’t used IRC since, like, highschool, or something… but I have decent reasons (all legit and legally kosher, mind you). Anyway, Sharaun’s at the gym now and Keaton and I are dancing around to In Rainbows (I didn’t get to jam to it much in Hawaii and was getting the shakes). We like our alone-time, it’s good for our relationship and stuff.

If you’ll cast your memories back with me for a moment, you’ll perhaps recall that, before leaving for a week in the Pacific Islands, I had torn down my summer tomatoes and sown in a goodly sized crop of “winter” wheat – all part of some idea I got in my head about wanting to “understand” the real “cost” of a piece of bread. While I was away, modern suburban scheduled irrigation dutifully watered my crop for me – and, while drinking coconut-infused cocktails astride the pool in Maui, I often wondered if there’d be any noticeable growth upon my return. I hoped for growth, of course, results from untended efforts are some of my absolute favorite results, but I was careful not to get my hopes up. When we had finally pulled into the driveway, fetched the luggage and baby, and were walking towards the front door, however, I made sure to get on my tippytoes for a second so I could peer over that little dip in our fence where the gardenbox is visible. I was ecstatic the view greeting me home:

Not bad. Now we’ll see if it’ll make it to seed.

Moving on, I feel I would be remiss were I not to note the fact that today is All Hallows Eve Eve. If you’ve been following my blog here at sounds familiar for any length of time, you know I’m an absolute nut for Halloween – have been since I was a kid. Every year since we bought our house, I’ve constructed and displayed elaborate props for the occasion, and we’ve thrown an annual bash for the past four years. Originally I figured, with Halloween falling during my sabbatical this year, that I’d have even more time to repair the brokenness of last year and maybe even make some super fantastic new props. But, the way things landed: our week in Hawaii right up against my favorite of all holidays, the run-down state of the existing props, and me being worried about repeat thievery with a yardful of props and no one home – I just decided to blow the whole thing off. It sucks, and I’ve had three neighbors ask me what’s up… but I vow to be back next year with a vengeance. It just doesn’t feel like Halloween without all the preparation and work, I’m a beaten man.

Goodnight.

Posted on

slightly more than usual


T-minus two days until Hawaii, and I’m getting truly excited. These past few days spent goldbricking around the house have been excellent, and have half-scared me by giving me a glimpse of what my life might be like without work. Doing nothing has merits, for a time, but even I begin to feel a mite guilty as one purposefully uneventful day blends into the next – so much so that I don’t even know, or care, what day it is. Now, that’s lazy…

I did, however, do a bit more than usual today. Well, sabbatical-usual, that is… and, only slightly more, at that. Got a bug and tidied Keaton’s room. It’s one of those rooms that folks rarely see, unless we escort them back there for a reason, so I don’t freak out about it being too untidy. And, Lord knows that, unless I’m the one tidying, it’s going to be a heap haphazard enough to make a hurricane jealous – with my wife. That room, and our master bedroom, are the ones in which I’m able to “tolerate” the most clutter. I still hate it with every fiber of my being, but I can at least keep my “areas” clear enough to keep my rage suppressed. Somedays I just lost it, though, and that’s when I tear through in a frustrated sweat, going a hundred miles an hour. I know this to be something my father “passed on” to me. I can recall when he’d reach the frustrated point where he’d sweep through the room, tossing anything he didn’t thing belonged there into the trash, or piling it in a heap on my bed. I used to hate it, then; now I find it completely gratifying, if rather ineffective. Anyway, that’s what I did today in Keaton’s room. A reverse whirlwind, cleaning with gusto, cleaning with a purpose.

Well, I had intended to post this entry last night – but before the preceding fourteen words, the previous two paragraphs where all I had, and the motivation dried up there. I stayed up late reading anyway, till sometime past 1am, when I finally decided I’d better hit the hay. So it’s Thursday morning now, we’re up watching TiVo’d episodes of the Backyardigans and Sesame Street – well, Keaton is, partway, at least… she’s never been a big TV person (good for her, I suppose). Regardless of all that – it’s the day before we leave for Hawaii. I’m sure there’ll be lots of planning and plotting and packing, and perhaps all sorts of other alliterative P-words too – you never know. Sharaun is freaking out a bit, true to form, asking me to do illogical things like call the concierge at the hotel ahead of time to find out where the closest grocery store is – as if having this piece of knowledge in advance will net us some material benefit. “We can ask when we get there,” I say. Women. Who’ll ever understand them?

Continuing my story of having dinner with our elders the other night: We were seated at the table and the conversation had, once again, turned to WWII (likely because I always subconsciously drive it there – did you know the target-audience of the History Channel is 80% male?). At some point in the conversation, our friend remembered a limerick the kids used to say at the time: “Frankie’s in the White House, eating pork and beans; Eleanor’s in the bathtub, shooting submarines.” She blushed and giggled like a little girl after saying it. Shooting submarines in the bathtub… that’s a scatological reference, right? Something having to do with torpedoes and pooping in the tub? Hilarious… especially from someone nearly ninety years old. OK, that counts as a paragraph, right? More than anything I wanted to get that quote on my blog in hopes of pulling in obscure Google searches (I coudn’t find it verbatim in reference to the Roosevelts, although it’s prevalent in what must be its original form about a judge and his wife).

Until next time, from somewhere on the beach and hopefully a few drinks in the black. Later.

Posted on

beans that go bang?


Hey, internet friends, before I even start trying to write – revel in joy. Why? Why, because I posted new pictures to Keaton’s gallery. This should catch us up to the present, if hastily. Check them out here, covering sabbatical times including September and October. I’ll try and upload some pictures from Oktoberfest later in the week, but you’ll have to make due with cute babies for now.

10:30am now, up since 7:30am when Keaton decided it was time. It’s sort of nice, having a reason to be awake early, something to kickstart the day, get the shower waters on me, the deodorant under my arms, brush on my teeth. On top of being up early, I got the morning to myself – to read and surf the internet and listen to music. I could’ve called people who are also on sabbatical, seen what they’re up to, maybe made arrangements to meet up and do something… but I didn’t Sometimes I just don’t want to move a stitch. I think it has to do with feeling “in control” of everything – which is easier when “everything” is practically nothing. I decide that I sit here; I decide when to eat lunch, and what to eat; I decide what to listen to; I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. It’s easy that way, it’s what sabbatical is all about for me – and I love it.

Tonight Sharaun cooked again for the older couple we occasionally do dinners with (the subject of blogs prior), and the conversation, as it did last time, turned to WWII-era times. It’s so fascinating to me to hear, firsthand, about those times in American history – right from the mouths of those who lived and fought during them. And tonight I heard something that piqued my interest. Our friend and meal companion mentioned that, during the war, her dad used to grow and sell black-eyed beans (which she says are the same thing as black-eyed peas, but that’s not what they called them then) to the US government for use in making gunpowder. This sounded strange to me, so I asked her more. Apparently, her dad used to profit more selling black-eyed peas to the government during wartime, for gunpowder, than from any of his other crops. Crazy, right?

Well, being the guy who hungers for knowledge about such things, as well as being the guy who was once the kid who was obsessed with all things incendiary – I just had to know how to make gunpowder from beans. So, as soon as we got home I hit Google looking for some reference to peas/beans along with gunpowder. After searching for a while and coming up with zilch, I hit Wikipedia to read up on the history of both gunpowder and black-eyed peas. Even armed with this information, I could find no reference whatsoever to the use of black-eyed peas, or any substance derived from them, in the manufacture of black powder.

I ask you, internet, help me figure this out. What the heck could the WWII-era relationship be between black-eyed peas and gunpowder, or guns, or artillery in general? Late in my searching, I found that sodium nitrate (archaically referred to as saltpeter), a key ingredient in black powder, occurs naturally in “leafy green vegetables” (Wikipedia source). I also found an obscure reference in one of Google’s online scans of a book called, Gunpowder, Explosives And the State: A Technological History, where they say that, in ancient Egypt, the “stems of lupine peas provided charcoal for gunpowder.”

Could it be that this woman’s dad was somehow selling greens to be processed for saltpeter? Or maybe he was selling the stems as a basis for the charcoal which is also a key gunpowder ingredient? I’m just dying to know…

Unrelated, except for being on Google Books, I found this “experiment” hilarious.

Goodnight.

Posted on

that’s what i do


Ouch. My hips are still sore from last night’s sleep – a product of getting old, I fear. Never before did the “activity” of sleep take any toll on my person, but, with age, it seems that, on the wrong mattress, I can wake up feeling like I’d slept on a pile of rocks. It tells me that, sooner or later, I’ll be unwilling to put up with it, and be willing to part with the dosh for a new bed – but, until that day comes, I’ll keep that money in my wallet and deal gingerly with the hips that result. But, we’re not here to talk about my less-than-graceful aging… or, are we? Huh. Maybe we are, after all.

Keaton’s awake, after a long afternoon nap – she’s currently taking her books from the wicker basket I use to collect them, one-by-one, re-littering the floor I cleaned a few hours ago after putting her down. It’s been a good day for me. While not breaking the chain of sabbatical do-nothingness, I at least took a pry bar to the weakest link and made show of an effort. I mowed the lawn, something I’d been needing to do – and that needs to get done before we leave for Hawaii. I also finally got around to razing my summer garden to make way for the makings of a winter one. I tore into the viney tomato plants with gusto, sad to see them go, but amazed that the bumper crop they decided to leave me with. I pulled off a couple pounds of ripe red fruit, and paper-bagged another six pounds or so in hopes they’ll ripen off the vine (the internet says they will, and who doubts the internet?). Yes, I expended all that effort today – before noon even. Don’t worry though, I spent the next few hours lounging on the couch alternating between reading and napping. Just as it should be.

Sharaun is out picking up the last few ingredients we need to make tonight’s experimental dinner. See, while at Oktoberfest, I happened to eat a bowl of delicious “Deftige Gulaschsuppe mit Hausbrot” at the Schottenhamel tent (that’s goulash soup with house bread, for us ‘mericans). So did I love the hearty stuff, that, upon returning home, I scoured the net for a recipe that looked faithful to my memory of its awesome flavors. In time, I found a recipe which looked about right – and even had some historical text prefacing it which mentioned Bavaria and Oktoberfest. Seemed right to me, so I printed it up and asked Sharaun to give it a try. I’ll let you know how it comes out, since I know you must be keenly interested.

I swear I’m uploading pictures tonight… but until then, here are some pictures Jeff posted from our time at Oktoberfest – I think anyone can view them. Enjoy.

Until later.