The blindsided

Just days after she won an Oscar, news that Sandra Bullock’s husband was messing around came out. I can’t even imagine being in that situation (if my husband managed such a stunt, I would be devastated, but once I regained the ability to speak, I would have say to him, “Well played, sir. Well played.”) The biggest deal is that everyone considered Sandra Bullock to be the one marrying down to a dirtbag, so the question for the cheating dirtbag was, “Why eat a burger when you have steak at home?” (A: Because sometimes you just really want a burger). Sandra Bullock is one of the few famous people on my husband’s “list” (The list also includes Janet Jackson and Eva Mendes). He loves that Sandy.

After the dust settles the next step seems to involve the offender checking into some kind of rehab and disappearing from the news until they emerge a changed-for-the-better-person.

As a government contractor, rule number 1 seems to be this: contracts end. As in, once the time is up and you have accomplished (or not accomplished) what you have agreed to do, you can no longer justify charging to said contract, which means you are not in a good situation. “On the bench” is what my company calls it, and while that sounds like fun in a college intramural softball team way, it stinks.

The good part was that I didn’t love my project. The customer was sort of a pain. I was the buffer between her and my company. It wasn’t an especially challenging job and the things I thought could make things better were not allowed to happen because the contract had strict guidelines on what we would provide. I had all these brilliant ideas (really, they were), and nowhere to execute them. So, while the situation of not having a job sucks, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I am a tiny bit relieved.

On to the sucky parts—
1) How I found out:
I work at the government site (or should I say, “worked,” but we’re getting to that) part of the time and the rest of the time I was in our company office. A few weeks ago I had the tedious task of filling in a spreadsheet so the blank values we had in our database could be filled with (duh) data. It took ages (“ages”= a little over a week). I would stream episodes of “This American Life” on NPR and I would go to town looking up possible values for the blanks. It was dreadful but at the same time it felt like I was accomplishing something and contributing to the cause. The following week, the customer called me to ask when I planned to come in and turn in my badge. I thought, “why turn in my badge when I will be there next week to continue working?” Well the obvious answer is: Because you won’t be there next week to continue working. Duh. But the wheels in my head hadn’t turned to reach that conclusion yet. I thought it was just a case of the customer being difficult again.

2) I was holding down the fort alone the week the shit hit the fan.
My manager was not available and the other guy on the project was working on something else. My manager returned towards the end of the week. He was also under the impression that our work should be continuing. Had things gone properly, someone would have clued him in first, he would have told me what was going on, and I would have concluded on my own that I needed to turn in my badge.

3) The turn in
This was just…awkward. I had to go in, tell the IT people to close my email account, reset my own voicemail (this was a failure because the directions were wrong and the thing would not let me reset it, but you know what? Not my problem), get people to sign off on my outprocessing check list and finally, turn in my badge. I talked to the customer and put on the brave face saying “these things happen,” instead of going out in a blaze of glory because these are the same people that decided to eliminate my job. I returned to the office with nothing else to do.

4) The alternative
I have been offered the possibility to work in support of another project. The issue is that this would require a one and a half hour drive (in good traffic). Have I mentioned that I don’t carry a spare tire in my car? I don’t have runflats, either. I just envision myself stranded somewhere along the highway because of some kind of car problem. I know part of this fear stems from taking public transit for so many years. If a train broke down or there was a delay, it made the news. You were also stranded with hundreds of other passengers someplace along the highly populated train route. I’m not saying that the train is an ideal way to get to work in all cases, but it has some benefits (and don’t anyone say, but you can listen to audiobooks. My reading comprehension seems to be at its best when the information is going through my eyes).

5) The hustle (not this kind). It was September when I last looked for a job. I felt I had time to mentally prepare for it and I had some contacts in mind. It had been over 2 years since my last job change and I felt energized enough to get myself back out there. This time it feels different. I like my company. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t think I have a choice. I am planning to talk to the HR director but I’m not hopeful anything like “Work 10 hours a week from home for your current rate of pay” is going to turn up for me. I did update my profile on Monster and I signed in to multiple employers’ websites to register and upload my resume (here’s an idea, why don’t these companies get together and use one database application?) I did get a call today from a recruiter. It was going pretty well until salary (and what sounded like a lack of any kind of benefits) came up. When he said “Well you could take this now since you’re not working…” I pretty much stopped listening. It’s not that I’m above taking a pay cut, it’s that those words translate to: “Hey, I would like a commission if you get hired, so go on and take this even if it’s not quite what you want.” I want to say, “Oh, well, you know, I didn’t know I didn’t have a job and I needed one. Since you mentioned it, sure! Let me go on and take it.”

I wish there were a rehab I could go to—hide out for 30-45 days, and emerge at my own press conference as a completely refreshed and no longer jaded employee.

Truth is dumber than Onion

I love The Onion. Sometimes I run across articles that look like they belong in the Onion, but they're real. Sometimes it's the onion free truth that makes you cry.

This black-and-white handout photo provided by the General Accountability Office (GAO) shows a product billed as an air room cleaner that was actually a space heater with a feather duster and fly strips attached. Fifteen phony products, including the air cleaner, won a label from the government certifying them as energy efficient in a test of the federal 'Energy Star' program. Investigators concluded the program is 'vulnerable to fraud and abuse.'

Open Book

I was going through a bookcase the other day. I love books, but they’re heavy, and heavy things aren’t really the best thing when you’re considering moving. I had to go through and be brutally honest with myself—was I going to read it again? Could I find it at a library? If I bought it and hadn’t read it, was I ever going to? If I did plan to read it, could I find it at a library? You get the point. I am the person that says she won’t buy a Kindle (or e-reader) because 1) I’m cheap, and 2) I like books. Books don’t need to be charged, and if the book gets damaged (water bottles have a strange way of leaking all of their contents around my books), you’re not damaging an entire collection. If you leave it someplace (yes I've done it), you didn’t just throw away $200+ dollars.

At the bottom of the bookcase are my journals from college. I wrote in them every year I was there. I didn’t write “Dear Diary” or have a lock on it or anything corny like that, but I wrote pretty regularly. People say this is a good habit—it’s therapeutic, and you’re keeping a record of events as you see them when they’re happening, not later when your memory is fuzzy and you embellish the past into something better than it was. I will probably always have them, but here’s the problem—I can’t go back and read them without feeling embarrassed for myself. It’s like time traveling without the advantage of being able to interact with those characters from the past. Suddenly you’re reading about things that happened and how you felt, but you’re also thinking, who is this dumby? I read a page, cringe, turn the page, read, cringe and repeat until I’m compelled to shut the book.

Some people say (who am I, Fox News?) “But the past is what makes us who we are!” Please. That’s just a way to excuse the sheer idiocy that went on. I don’t keep a journal, but I write here, and what you see is just a highly edited sliver of what goes on in my head and in real life. If there’s anything I learned from those books I wrote in college, it's that sometimes the fuzzy (and sometimes embellished) memory really is better than the young, dumb truth.

Early Bird

Apparently Conan O'Brien is doing a tour. As soon as I found out about this, I looked for tickets. The D.C. show is on June 8th. Well, I checked the calendar and initially thought "Shit! Crap! I won't be here!" I am visiting my best friend in June. I try to go every year (or she comes here). Then I thought, "Oh good, I will be here." I will be catching a red eye flight home, which means I get in an Oh-dark-thirty in the morning and that night I could have a night on the town with my husband. We got to see his man-crush in October, so I should be able to see my Co-nan crush in June, right? Fair is fair. Besides, my husband thinks he's funny too. It wouldn't be like he'd be checking his iPhone throughout the show, like he did at a certain Cure concert or something.

Apparently word got out through Twitter. I have a Facebook account but I drew the line at Twitter. It just sounds too annoying and high maintenance. Some people look at Facebook the way I look at Twitter. "Why should I get an account? It's just people twittering or tittering or tweetering in 140 characters or less. Why do I need this?" Well I got my answer today, didn't I? Apparently the tickets sold out pretty quickly, or at least for the D.C. shows, you can't even find tickets in pairs anymore. If I really wanted to find some tickets now, I guess they wouldn't come cheap. Get it? Cheap? Cheep? CHEEP CHEEP? Eh?

is this thing on?

Attack on the Black Van

From the spam folder:

Hi,
I am a British soldier currently in Afghanistan. I am with the 40th Regiment Royal Artillery in Afghanistan¹. We hijacked a suspected Van painted black between the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan. The Door gunners sitting behind machine guns in the Black Van² tried shooting at our direction but we lunched a combat backup attack³ on the Black Van none of the Taliban survived the attack.

We discovered other currencies including US dollars of about $ 16 million loaded inside the Black Van with so many types of machine guns. We want to move this money out of this place, before we declare other items in the van to the international press. This place is a war zone you will keep our share pending the end of our assignment here in Afghanistan.
We will take 70%. You take 30%. No strings attached, just help us move it out of Afghanistan, Afghanistan is a war zone. We plan to use secured logistics courier to ship the money out in a large box.⁴
If you can help to receive the box for us, I will send you the full details. Kindly send me an e-mail signifying your interest including your most confidential telephone/fax numbers for quick communication also your contact details. This should be a secret and must be a secret between us.⁵

Respectfully,
Gen Sir David Richards (right)

1. Well, if he claims he's a soldier, who am I to argue?
2. The capitalization is a nice touch. I feel this distinguished "Black Van" could probably do with a trademark symbol as well.
3. If you "lunched an attack" does this mean you called in a fleet of Schwans trucks?
4. Shipping money out in a large box=brilliant!
5. Lips=sealed

Sociopathic bosses and you

I got this article in an email message today. It's titled "Our fascination with sociopathic bosses." It sounds kind of severe, but I clicked the link and started reading. According to the article, a sociopathic boss is someone who can be charming when the occasion demands it -- usually with customers, clients or friends -- but who, in the workplace, are domineering, angry and verbally abusive. They publicly humiliate employees and show little tolerance for people who make errors, often firing them on the spot.

It sounds pretty heavy to attach "sociopath" to anything, especially to a person who is supposed to be in charge of other people. Given the definition above, my last boss fits the bill.

I haven't written much about what happened at my last job. I treat it sort of like Fight Club. The boss in question was in charge of a team of employees, and we were rolling along until summer, when the wheels began to wobble. They fell off by the time fall came around. I think I put up with a lot more than usual because we got away with a lot. Don't feel like facing the noise? Sure, take a sick day! We did birthday lunches at nice restaurants and we sort of all did our own thing and as long as the money was flowing the contract was good, he was good with us. If funding was cut or a customer didn't see the need to continue with our work, things got ugly. I witnessed more than one explosion with more than one person on the team. I was never the direct target, but the public humiliation affected everyone at some point. It was hard to receive but almost worse to see someone else get pummeled. We had meetings twice a week and the running joke was that someone would inevitably have a turn in the barrel.

I learned a few things (HR is not your friend, for one). I might revisit the last two years and write a book. I made a few good friends and I got a pay raise. I even picked up some minor software skills. It wasn't all terrible but I'm glad someone showed me the door when it was determined that my "skill set" was no longer required. It was time to go anyway.

Trappings

If we do move to another house, one of the things on the to do list is to declutter. I have entirely too much stuff. I know the general rule is that you get rid of something every time you buy something new, but I don’t. I still like some of the old stuff. I might still wear it, or need it someday. That’s the worst kind of thinking. You get into remembering what you spent on something, and whether you might use it again over recognizing that the few times you do use it aren’t worth the space that it takes up to store when it’s not being used.

How do you weigh what you need against what you want? How you weigh what you actually need over what you think you need? People are so spoiled sometimes. In almost every house I have seen online, the master bedroom includes a massive corner soaking tub. It’s like a requirement now. How many people actually use those to take a bath? How many people like that tub because they like the thought that they can fill it up and soak if they want to, even if they actually hop into the shower every day instead? I would rather have a bigger shower (or his and hers toilets) than a whopping corner tub, but apparently it’s become a standard.

I was going through my jewelry box the other day. I used to wear necklaces a lot more than I do now. I still kept the ones I had. I still like them. I have shoes I don’t wear but keep because I like them. It’s silly. I should have a room just to display the things I like but never wear. I have a few phones that I switched out before they died. Some of them probably still work. I should probably sell these things on eBay and make some of the money back, but that becomes another task. Every time you get something new, it incurs an obligation of maintenance and storage. Even my daughter is going through this. I don’t want her to start off with the same bad habits, but every time she has a birthday or Christmas comes around, everyone is very generous.

I saw a slideshow of a man who lives in a small apartment. He actually had several items he didn’t use, but kept for aesthetic appeal. The entire space under his bed was used for storage. Every inch of the space was packed, but organized in a way that it looked interesting and not cluttered. From that show I clicked on another one featuring a family that lived in a yurt. They had internet access but used an outhouse. I like the idea, but no thanks. For most of my time in Korea, the work sites only had portapotties and if I never have to use that or something like that again, it will be a-okay with me. Aside from the plumbing issue, I wonder what it must be like to carefully choose the things you need, get rid of the things they replace, and skip buying most of what you want in the interest of space, time and money.