beancounters

Humbug!

What supervisor in their right minds would take a complicated task that one analyst can do perfectly well, and assign it to a new analyst? Especially if the task involves a lot of frustrating back-and-forth between competing schedules, reconciling dates by hand. With one's shoulders hunched over the desk. And a pen clenched in one's fist. Like Bob Cratchett, only with better task lighting.

The only good reason I can think of, is if the other analyst secretly requested to be taken off that particular project. But I can't trick my coworker into admitting she did that, mwheh-heh.

It's okay. I had a talk with my supervisor on Friday. It wasn't pretty. I expressed my displeasure with the way the last two months went. She apologized but asked why I didn't come to her sooner. I said because I was afraid this wasn't fixable; that it was the status quo. She apologized again, but said it is the status quo. And she has it worse. So our talk about my job satisfaction turned into a talk about her job satisfaction.

Also, from her monologue, I came to the realization she just wants a secretary in this chair, not an analyst. It isn't the job I thought I was getting, plain and simple. So I'm exploring my options. But in the meantime I am doing exactly what she needs and doing the best work I can.

It's always possible things will improve. Shoot, at least we talked. The door is open now. And life is capricious.

Dodging the meme bullet

If I were ever to start a column here called, say, "Those Clazy Internets" -

(which I would not! because it would become a meme before I could even hit the send button!)

- the first entry would surely be The Condiment Packet Museum.

And right under that link would be the museum store.

You whippersnappers!

So, I'm walking up to the office at my daughter's school to drop off a note, and I walk past a horde of her classmates. And then my daughter follows me into the office, and remarks that "Shannon asked me if you were my mom or my grandmother."

Ouch! Damn! I am that grey, but holy crud ... I feel like running home with a box of Miss Clairol!

Missed your chance, pilgrim women

Why do you suppose the practice of the menstrual hut never caught on in mainstream American society?

I'm not talking about anything complicated here. Just a place, a little house, set apart from the community a ways, where women retreat for three or four days a month - not because they are inherently "unclean", but because it's just so wrong sometimes to have to handle family matters and work when your body is cramped and buzzing like a figurative hornets' nest.

Me, I blame the pilgrims for not coming up with the menstrual hut in our earliest history. Work, work, work. Everybody works until they drop, except on one day randomly assigned by some dusty old ministers a thousand years ago. Stupid Protestant work ethic! Would 3-4 days off have killed ya? I'm sorry, but nobody should be that busy.

Cold enough?

Wow, you guys.

I will not complain about Sacramento's 40-degree lows for the rest of the year!

[via my mom]

Total wacko fiction, unless it's true

It's Saturday, so you have time to read a new Udargo comic, featuring Burton and Jefferson Hillary and the liberal media.

And who doesn't have time for Tomkat and their Alien Baby?

The 23 meme

At the behest of CmdrSue, here's my response to the archive game she passed along.

Here's the deal:

1. Go into your archives.

2. Find your 23rd post.

3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).

4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.

I feel strangely compelled here - principally because of the numbers chosen. This is why I agreed to do this. Well, that and Sue is officially Da Bomb for her thoughtfulness and her superior coaching skills on the subject of Ambiguity About One's Job. :-)

So here we go. The date was Oct. 15, 2003, the event was ... something to do with the Cubs and the World Series. I think they'd won it or were about to win it. Or something. Anyway, I was all caught up in whatever-the-moment-was, and posted some trivia I'd found about the historical perspective of their incredible losing streak, including this sentence:

TV was invented; Cubs fans got to see their team lose.

Okay, no, not a scintillating sentence in and of itself, but if you click the link and read the original post you will relive ... something cool about the Cubs. I can't remember now. It was about baseball though, right?

That IS damn good coffee

I made an impulse stop for coffee at my office building.

"What can I get you?" asked the barista (baristo?), an older gentleman who plays Traffic on the stereo.

"Um ... Redemption ... enduring friendship ... an unexpected opportunity ... a rewarding career."

"Sure. Vente or grande?"

I know! Pick me!

Good morning. Last night I - whups coffee's done. Hang on.

Aaaah. How 'bout you? Got your morning drink nearby? Great. Anyway, class last night was funny. The prof is the same guy I had last year for Research Methods. He's the one who is very cheerful but jittery, like he's on a sugar high. Sharp but friendly. Loves to play with theories. And this class is one of the most theory-based of the program, so we should have a good time wallowing in the world of the hypothetical this year.

I was so happy to be there, I grabbed Savvy and made her sit up front with me. Then I made like Hermione all evening. Oy!

After class the prof and I spoke about my upcoming elective courses. I heard a rumor that one can go outside the policy school to find grad courses in one's discipline. I don't currently have any discipline, but I thought I should ask and cover my bases.  Otherwise my choices are land use planning and, well, land use planning.

The prof squinted and jingled and hmmmed. "You'd have to talk to me about that, Pam. It would depend on the courses, because some of them are of varying stringency levels, ah, academically, and I'd hate for you to ... "

I tried to finish his thought. "You'd hate for me to slide? Or to die?"

"Well, slide. I don't particularly care if you die!" He gave a jittery laugh. Excellent. My advisor, ladies and gentlemen. Doesn't care if I die.

Discardian

I am really enjoying the Discardian blog. Every day is a new tip about how to clear out the clutter and simplify your living areas. And unlike certain magazines on the newsstands today, the secret marketing motive is not to sell gullible people lots of expensive gadgets!

Un-whiny post about work

There's a subpoena waiting for me at the post office. Nothing says 'I care' more than a packet from the DOJ!

OK, it has to do with an ongoing case that my former office was working on - I was only marginally involved, so I believe the subpoena is just to cover all bases.

Going to the office on Monday following training was odd, in that it felt ... normal. I won't say 'nice' because I'm a hold-out. Normal was disconcerting enough. I spied Cola Yak on my monitor and thought, my place. And then yesterday, I actually understood almost everything said in a meeting. Is my piecemeal self-education finally coming together here?

Meanwhile, there's news from my old office: they're not going to advertise my old job after all. They are going to take that salary allocation and increase it so my boss can get another specialist for her staff. I'm glad for her in a way, because she'd always needed a third specialist, but specialists are damned expensive and they never would give her one. But it means I can't go back at all.

This is good. Really. One option closed; I can concentrate on the others. Besides, it would have been a step backwards. The same salary plus a 45-minute commute? Back to the exact same job I left? Not cool no matter how homesick I am.

Join me in an earworm?

Every time I sit down to try and read two articles for school about the Voting Rights Act of 1965, "Eve of Destruction" starts playing. Very good song, but distracting. So, I thought I'd share.

The mystical "ANY" key

The mystical "ANY" key,
originally uploaded by MikeDefiant.

Mikey finally found the "any" key!

It was right there in front of us; I can't imagine how we missed it.

Welcome to the cube

I attended a meeting this morning and … I understood everything! Also, I took notes in acronyms!

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE … YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED … WE WILL ADD YOUR DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN …

(R.I.F. … Y.W.B.A. … W.W.A.Y.D.T.O.O. …)

Starstruck

I keep clicking the link to Snowball's site, just to gaze upon the beauty of the new graphics. She's going to have wonky stats today; now she'll know why.

These are not my beautiful buddies

Happy Monday. Let's push that last post on down the page now, shall we?

I'm back at work today, slowly reading through three days' worth of e-mails. They're almost all about various committees I've been assigned to. In an organized fashion, I read all mail about one committee, print out key items, and then forget them and go on to the next set. Heh.

In my basket was a map to my building from another building. I can appreciate that the other building's occupants might need a map to this building, but ... why were we all given copies? We already know how to get here. Odd. Maybe there'll be an e-mail in the mix that will explain the logic. No clue.

School tonight. I keep forgetting the name of the course - and where it's located. That can't be a positive sign. Still, if I do find the classroom, how nice that I will see my lovely cohort-mates again. Though I just realized! Oh no! Everybody else from the original study buddies group is taking the Saturday session! They'll use the same books but the course is paced differently and has a different instructor. Hopefully I can start a new study group for this class, because I have a feeling I'll reeeally need it.

The truth about Pamela

Oh, geez. I wasn't going to post this, folks. Really. But when I got to the last line, I simply had no choice. You do see that, don't you? [via Tonya and Karen]

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Pamela!

1. A lump of Pamela the size of a matchbox can be flattened into a sheet the size of a tennis court.
2. If you kiss Pamela for one minute you will burn six or seven calories.
3. If you don't get out of bed on the same side you got in, you will have Pamela for the rest of the day.
4. The ace of spades in a playing card deck symbolizes Pamela.
5. All swans in England belong to Pamela.
6. Pamela is the sacred animal of Thailand!
7. Humans have 46 chromosomes, peas have 14, and Pamela has 7.
8. An average beaver can cut down Pamela every year.
9. Native Americans never actually ate Pamela; killing such a timid prey was thought to indicate laziness.
10. While sleeping, fifteen percent of men snore, and ten percent grind their Pamela!

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

And a complete k.d. lang collection

Get out of here and make your own Simpsons avatar. (Why do I like these programs so much?)

Check me out. If I were a resident of Springfield, I'd be the new girl's P.E. teacher with a suspiciously broad knowledge of sports.

Dog memories

It's Saturday, and I have a couple of great family dog stories for you. First, this one, about Rusty (a good friend of our family) and the poodle who trained her well. Then there's this one, which includes a zinger delivered by my nephew Damon. Go and read.

Exclamation points abound after procrastinating

See how complacent I've become the last few weeks - or perhaps how fixated I've become on trivial work issues?

I forgot that school starts next Monday.

Training class let out at 3:00 this afternoon. As I contemplated a pleasant few hours at home, spouseless and kidless, something in me clicked, and I thought instead that I'd wander over to the college and pick up my books and parking pass. You know. Nice and early. So I could read ahead before the first day of class.

But guess what I discovered when I got there? A veritable sea of dark green hoodies and flip-flops. Yes! Students are back on campus! Buying books and parking passes at the last minute!

Duh. Hate that. Also hated this: I had to replace my student body card, and endure being asked again if I was Student or Faculty. Student, thank you! You got a problem with the grey hair? That's it, you're grounded!