In Which I Present My Case

So IT people work late at night and odd hours. This is a fact. Our work is vital and the fewer people who notice we are doing it the better.

Also, things break in the middle of the night and whenever they want so we stay on call all the time.

However, it is important to my religious beliefs and personal emotional well-being that I not be scheduled to work between sundown on Friday and sundown on Saturday. Notice please that I did not say I would not work, just that I not be scheduled to work. Scheduling implies that there was a choice of times and the worst possible was selected for me. If something breaks on Friday night, I'm there. I just ask that my preferences for off-hours work be taken into consideration when possible.

So the compromise my manager has come to with this is that I work all weekend every weekend. If my time reporting (which is stupid for salaried employees anyway) comes in at under sixty hours a flurry of emails is issued requesting my help on other projects.

To top this off, the three day weekend surrounding Purim and Easter I spent pouring through poorly worked-over code, trying to create functionality in a holy miracle of my own on the Saturday I've started to call "The Saturday of Our Blessed Mother of .NET Functionality Message Board Trolling".

During the midst of this, my manager called my cell phone to request that I update the status of this project before sundown on Friday since he would be unable to answer his phone on the Sabbath.

"Hey!" I answered,"That's great because I'll be unable to dial a phone during the same period of time!"

I was ignored.

Then last Friday afternoon he called me again after I'd spent most of the week off-site and away from the application build machines to tell me that I needed to be available to build something else over the weekend again.

"You know my VPN isn't working since the last update and no one supports it on my Mac anyway so I'll have to drive into the office to do those builds, right?" I asked.

"That's fine."

Oh good. I'd hate for that to have pissed him off.

"I'll just let them know to give you fifteen minutes lead time to get to the office."

Sweet. Fifteen minutes for fifteen miles. In Houston. Along the worst stretch of highway in the western world.

You may recall the episode in January when I did not answer a phone call which was never placed. If not, please read this bit.  

To sum up, I was told that if I didn't answer my cell phone and respond "instantly" at any time of the day or night I was not doing my job. The fact that it is my cell phone is irrelevant. I gave them the number for the purposes of a phone interview so they can plaster it over the intranet site if they like. And my wife's. And my home number. And they wanted my personal email address so I had to set up a dummy account to not check ever which was also a hassle.

Either way, the notification email to the developers went out and read:

"Garrick will be the primary contact for any CvX build requests this weekend. He will have to drive into the office to do the builds, so there will be a delay between request and the start of the build. Please give Garrick some lead time so he can respond.

I’ve asked James to be Garrick’s backup. I’ve not spoken with him, but left him a voice message.

Tertiary backup is Kishore.

Thanks, Vasanth.

John

PS. Just a reminder, my cell phone # is a private # which I don’t use for business purposes. Any calls to the cell phone may or may not be answered."

The guy gets to work two hours after me, leaves half an hour before I do and almost always says "Hey, do this thing before you go. It came in before lunch so they are probably looking for it" on his way out the door.

To be brief, I have to keep reminding myself that there is no "Crazed Loner Gunman" in T-E-A-M. Still, I find myself constantly wishing that blood stains did not violate the corporate dress code.

I've been mentally composing my resignation letter (bomb) and am having major difficulties keeping it PG-13.

If it turns out good, I'll be sure to post it here.

I'm not overreacting am I? What would "the normals" do in this case? I have no frame of reference for that.

Also, someone has been stealing my Diet Coke out of the refrigerator so I've been keeping them stashed behind my computer and drinking them warm!

Inedible Hyenas

Awwww! Look at that little guy! Too adorable for words, in my opinion.

Anyway, the place is filled with them. Gruesome claws, slavering fangs, cute round ears, the works.

I won't be posting a regular weekday post until I'm out of the downtown data center and able to access these interwebs again, or until I escape these snarling beasts. Whichever comes first.

At the moment, smart money is on my getting away from the pack while they sleep through a tunnel I've been burrowing into the tangle of cables under the raised data center floor. Please don't let them know. They can smell fear and it smells a lot like Cat-5 ethernet cable to begin with.

I've got some awesome stuff to post up in here as I wrap up this sad stage of my career. I believe I've discovered the new standard for asshat manager, but I'll post my evidence and ask beg someone to come up with better.

Hyenas, hiatus, whatever. I'm around and will be posting more regularly soon.

Pinky swear.

I Don't Want to Work at HP

"Soporte" does not translate directly to "Support" in a technical sense. It can have meanings about propping up or holding in place, but in this context it is much closer to translating to "Tolerate". This marketing image may be more honest than HP intended.

Anyway, the local HP office apparently freaked out recently and demanded that a bunch of different agencies find someone immediately to fix some of their broken . . . something. I don't know.

These recruiters have then been calling me and going into some speech about "an exciting opportunity at a leading computer manufacturer in the Houston area".

But I don't want to work at HP. I've got a list of places I won't go to work. The list has grown over time, but once a company makes that list there is no getting off it.  

Long, long ago, I worked there. It was so long ago it wasn't HP at the time, it was Compaq. HP still produces Compaq-branded computers, but that acquisition merger was all about picking up the "Proliant" name for servers.

HP, pre-Compaq, made a decent server with very little market share, and the name "Compaq Proliant" was associated already with a good server that was already in most of the data centers in the US. That re-branding into "HP Proliant" has kept the HP server unit afloat.

Probably afloat in black printer ink ($2,701.52 per gallon, by the way) but afloat no less. Also, human blood is $1,514.79 per gallon, so it may be more economical to print out emails using human blood.

I like to put little budget tips for geeks in here every once in a while.

Anyway, I worked in a building in the center of the complex with a great manager and a fun group of technicians. I don't remember what we did, exactly. I think it involved web pages.

The work itself was unimportant, since most of my time there (exactly one week) was spent discussing who had just been fired laid-off and listening to my manager plan his annual team cook-out.

On Friday of my first and last week there, the entire floor was "invited" to lunch with the business planning committee. It was delightful. They had transformed a common conference room into a common conference room with Subway sandwiches in it and a laptop connected to a projector thrilled us all with an exciting display of the shooting stars screen saver.

I know. But this was long ago, as I said, and people still used that screen saver because it looked "like hyperspace". At the time, we were still reeling as a people from the inexplicable popularity nosedive Hootie and the Blowfish had taken, so we grabbed our amusement where we could find it.

This meeting lunch was my first in-person experience with an official corporate cheerleader. He scared me more than a little, to be honest.

His Vaseline-coated smile was seemingly endless, though my team was split over whether this was a standard pep talk or a catered "pack up your stuff and leave" speech. We all knew that HP would be buying the company at any moment, so tensions were high. It was not a good sign that all of the sandwiches were turkey or chicken.

As he moused over and de-activated the screensaver, we were shown a standard Power Point header page with the date on it and giant text reading "STATUS".

He launched into a talk about how great Compaq's web sales were in the previous quarter and paged to a graph of multiple vertical lines. The graph was labeled "Web Sales Growth". The bar on the far left, broken in the middle because it didn't fit on the page, was marked "Dell". Next to that, half height and not in need of a break to fit on the page was "Compaq". After that, the bars became smaller and smaller. "Gateway". "E-Machines". "IBM". "Toshiba". And on and on.

"As you can see," he raved,"Our sales were ahead of estimates last quarter and we are on target to beat projections for next quarter as well."

Silence.

He pressed on,"So if everyone keeps up the good work, Compaq will remain a market leader."

Silence again.

"Keep in mind, these figures are for growth, an indication of future marketability and long-term job satisfaction for everyone."

I thought, for a second, I heard crickets.

Then someone behind me asked the cheerleader what the tiny bar on the far right said, because the bar was so small it required a smaller font. And that bar was small. Like a tiny line of dark blue, which made reading the text even harder.

The poor guy made a show of looking and not squinting and for the briefest instant his smile fell before he answered:

"It says 'HP'".

Instantly, the silence was replaced with wailing and cursing and the still air was split with (and I'm not kidding here) with flying turkey and chicken Subway sandwiches in every direction. No one was spared. No mercy was asked, and none was offered. Every person in the room was both a food-flinging weapon and a target.

I thank God every day someone decided against the hot meatball subs.

I managed to make it into the hallway with only a tiny bit of mayo on my shirt and I went back to my desk, gathered my belongings, and called my recruiter on the way out to let them know that I would not be back.        

So, these past couple of weeks when I get calls offering half of market rate to work at HP I have no hesitation in telling them that I am in no way interested in working for HP. And offering an extra couple of dollars an hour is not worth the time for either of us.

The calls have been frequent enough that I'm answering them at my desk in front of people.

But between the thought of blue screens of death and "Hit F1 to continue" endless boot loops and the possibility that I could get more mayo on my shirt, I'm not willing to take the chance.

I Hate Downtown

About 3pm on Monday I was informed that I'd be working off-site on Tuesday. Downtown. Enjoy the commute. Have fun paying to park in a pigeon-choked, pot hole-filled lot. Don't bring your lunch, over pay at one of the health code-skirting, yuppie-crammed stink boxes they have down there.

Or something like that.

And so I went. And I did my job. And I didn't complain. And I contributed to the economy.

And as a manager snagged me on the way out the door to ask me another time what it was I'd been doing all day, he interrupted himself to ask,"Why are you looking at me with that look of contempt and hatred?"

And I suspect that though he was kidding, he had to make a conscious effort to be kidding.

Because I hate going downtown.

And I hate balancing the checkbook.

And I hate not quitting my job.

Stuff I'm not good at I hate due to personal policy.

Role Reversals

I've spoken several times about the natural order of things in our household. Shana and I each have natural gifts and weaknesses and we each tend to gravitate towards responsibilities where we can each contribute the most to the good of the family.

In the case of this impending move to South Carolina (Columbia, for the record. Its the Capitol! Did you know that? I think we may have at one point, but who keeps track of these things past 5th grade quiz day?) we have moved towards our opposite roles.

Shana is insanely pretty (no pun intended) and almost phobic about speaking on the phone. So in this case, while I sit around and look pretty, she is contacting movers and negotiating our best cross-country rate.

The initial contact is by email or web form, but then they call. And call and call.

Shana does not answer, so I've been having some fun with fielding the calls.

"Shana can't come to the phone right now but this is her husband, can I take a message?"

"Sure. This is whatever-whatever moving company and I wanted to speak with her about her estimate regarding a move to South Carolina. I can be reached at (lalalalala-series of numbers I don't write down because I know Shana has them already, probably in a labeled manilla folder, alphabetized by mood.)."

"Okay, I'll let her know -- Wait! Did you say move to South Carolina? She's moving?!?"

The response on the other end is so freaking hysterical I can't even describe it! 

One other bit of news:

Jane and Ted can has blog. zOMG teh blog iz teh funny!

May it be frequently updated and continue the current trend of awesomeness, srsly.

Today is Purim.

Arguably, it is one of the most festive days in the Jewish calendar. We dress up, make a lot of noise, eat food which should by rights kill us, and celebrate the story of Queen Esther.

For anyone unfamiliar with the story, it can be summed up like this:
Mordechai, a Jew living in Persia, saves the kings life, but the king forgets about it and moves on . . . kinging . . . I guess, though spell check thinks that may not be a word.

Stupid spell check.

The king's wife gets busy and ignores a royal decree and loses her position as queen, so the king marries Esther (who is Mordechai's cousin). Then the evil prince (not related to any of the players in this story mentioned so far but a prince anyway for some reason understood only by Royals, most likely) Haman gets all upset with the Jews living in Persia and decides to have them killed and take their stuff.

You know. Like people do.

Esther is a Jew, but somehow this hasn't come up in discussions with her husband the king. Again, I assume he is just preoccupied with kinging things in kingly fashion, as kings are known to king.

See? "Kinging" is totally a word.

The king agrees to go along with Prince Haman's plot until Esther approaches the king and, through the sheer power of her stunning physical attractiveness, convinces him to not kill the Jews and give their stuff to Haman but instead to kill Haman and give his stuff to the Jews.
There are a couple of parts of the story which are particularly meaningful to me.

First, were I to use the power of my own physical prettiness to my advantage more often, perhaps I too could prevent evil in the world.

Note to self: Work it.

Second, the killing is bad but they also talk a lot about the transfer of ownership and moving of stuff, which then makes me think of our own upcoming move and then panic quite a bit. Hyperventilation is not pretty. Must. . . Regain . . . Control . . .

Okay.

We celebrate this holiday by reading the story of Esther, eating cookies shaped like the bad guy's hat, and (according to law) drinking until we no longer know Mordechai from Haman, or good from evil, or the bed from the floor, or which side of my pants is the front.

You know. Like you do.

As such, I embrace Purim and any other day dedicated to the power of Pretty. Like the season premiere of America's Next Top Model, Extreme Makeover, What Not to Wear and anytime anyone purchases the DVD boxed set of Season One and Two of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.
I'm on a special email notification list for that last one.

So, twice in one week I find myself not intoxicated enough to adequately participate in the festivities.

In between those days I found myself not intoxicated enough to adequately participate at my job, so the feeling is becoming too familiar.

I Can Has Start Date?

This morning I put a call in to the headhunter and requested an extension on the proposed start date.

The client wanted me onsite on the seventh and (as much as I would completely love flinging myself out the door here as soon as possible never to return) I just don't see a way to make it happen that quickly.

This puts me at the back end of a hiring cycle that is exactly two weeks long and pushes my start date (by corporate policy) to the 21st of April.

Of course, this lets me deliver my speech to the future workforce of America on the 12th and attend a book signing on the 11th. Either start date would cause me to miss both Shana's and Gwynyth's birthdays, but I get to be a little closer the longer I stay around.

This also means that the corporate headquarters of Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng Worldwide Amalgamated is relocating eastward. Our former offices and industrial testing facilities will be put on the market as soon as we can clean former disgruntled users out of the crawlspaces and find a home for the fish in the executive aquarium.

Anybody want a grouper? She's precious! Eats frozen shrimp out of your hand! In the future, I will only buy fish which keep kosher.

The total downside of the delay is that I have to maintain some semblance of concern about my current job until I can give notice. This was already starting to stretch my formidable acting prowess to its limits and I've had to peel the label off a bottle of Visine to pretend the eye drops are a prescription to reduce my "uncontrollable and involuntary eye rolling".

Anyway, I'm supposed to find out today if I can start the 21st or if it is the 7th or nothing. 

There were a number of considerations which went into this decision.

First, it is a challenging and state-of-the art installation.

I will be part of a team again instead of a lone geek faced with a wall of users.

There is little-to-no interaction with the "Where-is-my-'any'-key?" set.

I will have a well-defined set of responsibilities all within the original (kick ass) job description.

The Houston Interstate 10 construction process may not be finished in my lifetime and the commute to the new workplace is a calm half hour from anywhere local -- if traffic is backed up.

Hourly money plus benefits means they can ask me to work odd hours all they want and I'll pack a lunch and smile about it. Time and a half, my friends. Time and a half.

Time.

And.

A.

Half.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, my World of Warcraft server is on the east coast so server time will match real time for me at long last.

There is a lot of work to be done in packing up the headquarters for transportation to our new-and-improved location.

Apparently, the old-and-busted headquarters in suburban Houston will need to be fixed up a bit for sale. We will finally get to make all the upgrades we have been planning since we moved in years ago -- Just in time for someone to take advantage of the housing slump to lowball us on the asking price and enjoy all our hard work.

And by "our hard work" I mean "Shana's hard work" because I'm fleeing the state.