Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Irony?
Yesterday, my boss and I were pulled into a meeting with some very serious people who make a lot of money and are very good at what they do. The most serious and most Irish of these people informed us several times that we were under a non-disclosure agreement. We frowned and nodded seriously. We asked some serious questions. We dreaded the next morning.
Morning came, as it tends to do. I told two of my temps that their assignments would be ended early. No, they weren't fired: Due to the Global Economic Situation, the company is making some changes and they were impacted. I hate euphemisms, but I used this one, because I had nothing else to say. We were lucky, though, my temps got to finish out the week. I stood next to a grown man in the elevator who couldn't hold back a sob. I assumed that today was his last day. I stared straight ahead because I didn't know what else to do.
At 5 o'clock, the exodus was obvious. 3 of the 5 in of us in the elevator were leaving for the last time: one man and two women. The women seemed unnaturally happy. Perhaps they smiled to avoid making the rest of us feel sad, guilty, awkward; perhaps they got a great severance package. In the lobby, coworkers (well, former coworkers) embraced. A pile of boxes sat on the polished marble floor, across the foyer from the Christmas trees atop fake snow.
I stepped outside, forcing myself to go to the gym. Maybe the endorphins would improve this day. I pulled my coat in close and walked quickly down Park Avenue, closed in the west-bound direction to make room for the rides of the annual Christmas Carnival. I continued towards the 30-foot Christmas tree and the booths and the music. And then there it was: Bing Crosby, singing a Christmas song written by a Jew: It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Morning came, as it tends to do. I told two of my temps that their assignments would be ended early. No, they weren't fired: Due to the Global Economic Situation, the company is making some changes and they were impacted. I hate euphemisms, but I used this one, because I had nothing else to say. We were lucky, though, my temps got to finish out the week. I stood next to a grown man in the elevator who couldn't hold back a sob. I assumed that today was his last day. I stared straight ahead because I didn't know what else to do.
At 5 o'clock, the exodus was obvious. 3 of the 5 in of us in the elevator were leaving for the last time: one man and two women. The women seemed unnaturally happy. Perhaps they smiled to avoid making the rest of us feel sad, guilty, awkward; perhaps they got a great severance package. In the lobby, coworkers (well, former coworkers) embraced. A pile of boxes sat on the polished marble floor, across the foyer from the Christmas trees atop fake snow.
I stepped outside, forcing myself to go to the gym. Maybe the endorphins would improve this day. I pulled my coat in close and walked quickly down Park Avenue, closed in the west-bound direction to make room for the rides of the annual Christmas Carnival. I continued towards the 30-foot Christmas tree and the booths and the music. And then there it was: Bing Crosby, singing a Christmas song written by a Jew: It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Gays
Robby: Right now my friends on Yahoo! Messenger are in 4 categories: Kentuky Gays, California Gays, US Gays, Global Gays.
Me: Where do the breeders fit in?
Robby: Oh, I don't talk to them
Me: Where do the breeders fit in?
Robby: Oh, I don't talk to them
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Circles
Temp: My badge didn’t work this morning.
Me: That’s weird. It should be good for another month. Let me call Security.
Me: Temp’s badge didn’t work.
Security: It was automatically turned off because his account was disabled. Call IT.
Me: Temp’s badge was automatically turned off because his user account was disabled. What’s going on?
IT: His user account is fine. Here, let me send you the screen that says so.
Me: So what’s the problem? Why was his badge disabled?
IT: I don’t know. Call Security.
Me: That’s weird. It should be good for another month. Let me call Security.
Me: Temp’s badge didn’t work.
Security: It was automatically turned off because his account was disabled. Call IT.
Me: Temp’s badge was automatically turned off because his user account was disabled. What’s going on?
IT: His user account is fine. Here, let me send you the screen that says so.
Me: So what’s the problem? Why was his badge disabled?
IT: I don’t know. Call Security.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Joining Middle Management, or The Evil You Know
Tuesday I got a job offer. Wait, let's rewind:
I work in an office. I have a job that that doesn't use more that 20% of my brain, doesn't use my degree, and rarely uses 8 hours in a given day. It pays too little and requires less. I don't help the planet, and I'm not going to get rich. Overall, though, I'm not dissatisfied. I have a great boss, I have the best coworkers, I have flexibility and I have a lot of leeway.
Months ago I was referred for a job, doing about the same thing I was doing a couple years ago but for more money and with a longer commute. Much longer. Much. I made it through the third round of interviews. I Smiled, acted like a responsible adult, looked squarely in the eyes and all the middle aged women who shook my hand. I even wore a watch, a watch that half way through the second-round interview I realized was stopped. The position didn't turn out. They lost funding for the job or some such nonsense and I continued to drag myself to my job as a corporate drone.
This brings us to Tuesday, when more-money-longer-commute company called me up and made me an offer. Slightly higher base salary with a bonus structure that would translate to about 10 to 15k a year. I was so excited, I was thinking, "Yes! A change! Possibly a challenge!" I accepted the job yesterday and was planning on giving my notice today. I didn't expect my current job to match the offer.
Today I called up my boss to tell her. She asked me if I would consider staying, and I said yes. 7 hours later, she calls me back. Current employer matched the new base salary. No bonus. New title: Manager. I accepted. Here's why:
The math. Given the extra wear and tear on my car and the price of gas, I'd hardly be earning $100 more a month. That $100 would not be enough for me to:
1. Sit in my car an extra 8 hours a week
2. Work in a town that regularly gets about 100 degrees
3. Reconcile my environmentalist ideals with my commuter lifestyle
4. Give up riding my scooter to work
5. Have to make friends with new coworkers
6. Lose the amazing boss and coworkers that I work with now
7. Take a step back in seniority
8. Lose flexibilty with my schedule
9. Work for a smaller company that is less secure in the today's crap economy.
Overall, I think I did the right thing. Maybe I should have asked for more money from current employer, maybe I wouldn't have gotten it and maybe they would have walked me out of the building for going to work at a competitor. I don't like to think about the maybes. No, I'm not going to get rich doing what I'm doing. No, I'm not going to change the world. I make enough to live and live pretty well. I make enough to travel a bit, to eat out, to buy organic produce, and to be comfortable in the world around me. That's not bad. Not bad at all.
I work in an office. I have a job that that doesn't use more that 20% of my brain, doesn't use my degree, and rarely uses 8 hours in a given day. It pays too little and requires less. I don't help the planet, and I'm not going to get rich. Overall, though, I'm not dissatisfied. I have a great boss, I have the best coworkers, I have flexibility and I have a lot of leeway.
Months ago I was referred for a job, doing about the same thing I was doing a couple years ago but for more money and with a longer commute. Much longer. Much. I made it through the third round of interviews. I Smiled, acted like a responsible adult, looked squarely in the eyes and all the middle aged women who shook my hand. I even wore a watch, a watch that half way through the second-round interview I realized was stopped. The position didn't turn out. They lost funding for the job or some such nonsense and I continued to drag myself to my job as a corporate drone.
This brings us to Tuesday, when more-money-longer-commute company called me up and made me an offer. Slightly higher base salary with a bonus structure that would translate to about 10 to 15k a year. I was so excited, I was thinking, "Yes! A change! Possibly a challenge!" I accepted the job yesterday and was planning on giving my notice today. I didn't expect my current job to match the offer.
Today I called up my boss to tell her. She asked me if I would consider staying, and I said yes. 7 hours later, she calls me back. Current employer matched the new base salary. No bonus. New title: Manager. I accepted. Here's why:
The math. Given the extra wear and tear on my car and the price of gas, I'd hardly be earning $100 more a month. That $100 would not be enough for me to:
1. Sit in my car an extra 8 hours a week
2. Work in a town that regularly gets about 100 degrees
3. Reconcile my environmentalist ideals with my commuter lifestyle
4. Give up riding my scooter to work
5. Have to make friends with new coworkers
6. Lose the amazing boss and coworkers that I work with now
7. Take a step back in seniority
8. Lose flexibilty with my schedule
9. Work for a smaller company that is less secure in the today's crap economy.
Overall, I think I did the right thing. Maybe I should have asked for more money from current employer, maybe I wouldn't have gotten it and maybe they would have walked me out of the building for going to work at a competitor. I don't like to think about the maybes. No, I'm not going to get rich doing what I'm doing. No, I'm not going to change the world. I make enough to live and live pretty well. I make enough to travel a bit, to eat out, to buy organic produce, and to be comfortable in the world around me. That's not bad. Not bad at all.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Dear Job Seeker
Dear Job Seeker,
Your out-going ring is not professional. When you make me listen to crappy country or gangsta rap, I do NOT want to consider you for a job.
Please take the necessary steps to remedy this at your earliest convenience.
Regards,
Office Monkey
Monday, July 7, 2008
Paraphrasing My Job
Hiring Manager: Candidates need at least 5 years of Loadrunner experience.
Me: This candidate has 8 years.
Hiring Manager: It's only 1 line on his resume. I'm not interested.
Me: Would you like to at least talk to him?
Hiring Manager: No. You're stupid.
Me: Right now the Loadrunner position is our only priority. All of our other hiring managers are out of the office.
Recruiter: OK, we're on it.
***30 minutes later***
Recruiter: Here's candidate X's resume for your other position
Me: Thanks, but this manager is out of town all week. Please focus on Loadrunner
***Next day***
Recruiter: Do you have any feedback on Candidate X?
Me: No, You're stupid.
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