Sunday, January 27, 2008. 1622. Gate A4, Thurgood Marshall Baltimore-Washington Airport, awaiting flight to Tennessee. Sunny, surprisingly warm, though not warm enough to forego the overcoat.
Inertia is ruling my life at this point. An object in motion tends to stay in motion. An object at rest tends to stay at rest. I feel like I am constantly in motion these days, especially on the weekends when I must take care of all the things I let slide during the week. Not that this is a bad thing. I think I'm one of those people that need to be kept busy, or else my mind will start wandering, and I'll start wondering. We all know how dangerous thought can be.
Right now, I'm sitting with my back to the terminal windows, four foot glass panes tiered up six-high. The sun hangs heavy in the sky, ready to bust open and leak light every which way. Oh, wait, it is already doing so. Shine on, blessed sun, shine on.
The carpet below me is new enough that it still retains the distinct aquamarine and teal hues in its abstract thread pattern. (I am apparently comfortable enough with my e-sexuality to use the words "aquamarine" and "teal.") However, the carpet is old enough to see where bits of humanity have started embedding themselves in it. A pulled thread where someone tripped. A few strands of loose thread, trailed away from someone's fraying sock. Some of the carpet panels are starting to peel up at the edges, others have tamped down.
I see a man talking on his iPhone. He's taped several pieces of paper to the back, probably his name and address in case he loses it. This man is not concerned about his iPhone being a consumer gadget; the taping overlaps and was quick enough to have taken five minutes. He wears a black and gray plaid scarf around hid neck, as well as a suit coat, dark gray, that reflects as much light as it absorbs. He keeps taking calls. Grey sweater sleeve, an electronic watch, perhaps Timex, a class ring on his left ring finger. Another businessman on the road. As he talks, his jaw works as he listens. Is it gum? Is he talking?
A nun garbed in all white has sat down next to me, save her hood is all black. She has her left hand to her chin, holding it, presumably thinking? I dare not take too many looks, for fear of having to explain that I'm writing on my blog, and taking in what I see. She seems quite contemplative. I wonder if nuns are not averse to reading over my shoulder either, though with the sunlight and reflection, she might not even be able to read what I’m typing. Hell, I can hardly read what I’m typing.
***
R.Y. and I were having a discussion, as we are wont to do. Somehow, It rolled over to the topic of unconditional love. It was my preposition (supposition?) that unconditional love is idiotic, to which R.Y. expressed some surprise. He asked me if that meant that unconditional love was an idiot's ideal, and only idiots could unconditionally love. As usual, I did not use my words precisely, my eternal failing. Ah, blue heaven, teach me how I can use my words more precisely.
What I meant by my words was that unconditional love is, by logical measures, foolish, of or like an idiot, not that it was what only idiots could do. Unconditional love, love without condition, without asterisk. I used the example of parents. They unconditionally love the screaming wet lump that just came out of one of them, but there's no real logic to that. You know nothing about it, it isn't even a person, yet you'll love it no matter what. Remove emotion, and it makes no sense.
Strange thought coming from a self-styled romantic, but romanticism doesn't have to track with naivete.
***
Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep in a dark, quiet room make me a whole new man. I've average four hours of sleep a night this weekend, and I'm burned out and ready to give up and crawl under this seat I'm sitting on and live in the airport for a couple of days. In contrast, during the week, I had the privilege of sleeping full and sleeping well, and it was a revelation. I swear, we get everyone enough sleep, and this world would be a much better place.
***
Thje rental care I picked up had a whole 500 miles on it. Basically a new silver Pontiac G5. Damn, that was nice, driving a new car. The doors' locks weren't broken (Lady Surfer's rear driver's side lock is starting to malfunction). Acceleration and deceleration don't constitute an exercise in patience. I'm sure this car could pass every emissions test on the first run, and the engine light didn't come on intermittently for weeks at a time. There were no dings that I noticed, and starting the car in the morning didn't bring that little dread-lump to my throat asking whether or not the car was going to start.
When I returned from my trip, damned if I didn't almost decide right then and there to buy a new car. Never had a new car of my own, and yes, it is a luxury, but oh, to luxuriate in My Own New Car.
Then, I took the shuttle to the parking lot, found Lady Surfer, stowed my gear, and hopped in. And I noticed several things about her, things that I never noticed until the drive in the rental car made them more obvious. The seat, for one thing, was configured correctly. I didn't have to keep adjusting it back and forth every day. The wheel also felt just right in my hands, not that chunky wheel with all the ridges and grips that made it hard to let go of. The funny sounds during the drive back to Virginia that I drown out with the FM radio (no CD player). Even the way I had to pull up and brake early in the parking spot because Lady Surfer's getting old, too old, felt right.
I can wait a little while longer.
***
For the entire month of January, I will have spent at least some part of every weekday, if not the entire weekday, in a non-DC metro area state.
***
Why is there MS-13 in Tennessee?
***
At the hotel, I held the door as two men sporting the Bluetooth headsets (a matching pair) stepped on. One was discussing something to either a ghost or a voice in his head (and isn't it wonderful that technology has legitimized schizophrenia by making it OK to talk to yourself in a non-prayerful way?). I asked them "Floor?" He responded "Two, er, dos." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he thought I was Hispanic. Some people see what they want to see. Next time, I will ask a person, "Hey, mang, what floor joo want?"
***
Highways are all the same: long stretches and expanses of pavement, highlighted with bright green signs emblazoned with large white letters that are supposed to tell us something.
***
On the flight back to BWI from Nashville, the cabin was not sold out to capacity. This meant that all middle seats were left unoccupied, allowing everyone a little space. I turned my head and looked all around, because my group of three had just me. Each other group, save for one or two in the very back, had at least two people. Ah, subtle racism, how you have your slight advantages.
I still stayed in my window seat, and looked out the window when I wasn't asleep. The lights below, they looked like bunches of silk strands stretched out across a black sea, light clinging to each as if they were dewdrops. Was man meant to beat back the night in such a brazen manner? Was man meant to appreciate this attempt to beat back the night? If you took someone from the middle ages into a plane and showed them Baltimore at night, what would their reaction be?
I turned to my right to get someone's attention, but alas, there was no one there.
***
The sun's near the horizon, like a blood orange ready to bust wide open. As it sets, the sky above fades into a powder blue rolling into dusky night. On the wall in front of me, everything is silhouetted against that same orange-redness.
***
Last week at the client site mentally tasked me like I haven't been in a very long time. I didn't realize just how burned out my mind was until I was sitting on Friday listening to someone, concentrating on what they were saying, and none of it stuck. Didn't think it would be that bad. After all, all I'm doing right now is learning business processes and charting workflows on the white board.
Of course, my poor handwriting plagues and curses me. No one has a problem comprehending my Baltimoron accent, but everyone looks at my handwriting and just sort of shakes their head. Hell, when I look at it right after, I shake my head. Even when I transcribe onto paper for future use, when I show it to others, they still shake their heads. It really is a mess. Were the information not proprietary, and were I not afeared of the consequences, I'd snap a camera phone pic and show you just how bad the handwriting is.
This just contributes to my local legend at the client site. They see me as an aberration, though not because I'm Hispanic. T.K., my project manager, sold me out at the kick-off meeting. I forgot to mention to her not to say anything, but I think part of me thought she wouldn't say anything. Instead, when she introduces me, the first thing she says is "[K.T.] is the business analyst, and he's also a lawyer barred to practice in Maryland."
Bloops.
People behold me with wonder and confusion for these things, this strange career path, this illegible handwriting, this childish wit (can wit be childish?). I am really strange, my life is really strange. It's gotten to the point where I don't need to worry about racism, because once people get to know me, they'll find plenty of other reasons to look at me like I've lost my mind. Because I have lost my mind.
***
I really should iron my clothing, but this entire day has been filled with constant transition. Just want to sit here and do nothing.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Wandering Sunday
Sunday, January 20, 2008. 1349. Thurgood Marshall Baltimore-Washington Airport, waiting for flight to Nashville, Tennessee. Sunny, with a chill that bit right through my running shoes and swiped at my toes.
What is it that I hate about flying? It's no longer the flying itself. I welcome the enforced opportunity to fall asleep for a couple of hours and take a nap that I wouldn't normally be given the opportunity to take. No, it's the constant background chatter. There are just few enough people that I can make out distinct conversations, yet not enough to make them all blend into a cacophonous mix. Either quiet, or indecipherable noise. The inbetween combines the worst of both worlds.
Most of this weekend was spent running errands and catching up on business. Now, I'm right back out into the wilds. It's interesting, though, these past few weeks have taught me that I need to leave Virginia, and likely leave the tri-state area. Again, I am constantly reserving judgment for when this gets old, but so far, it is still kind of nice. Breaking up the monotony, I think, is the key. Video games are a way to change things up, but ultimately, it's more exciting to go out and see different places.
***
I parked my car in the long term lot, with hopes that I would be able to walk to BWI. Ah, naïve me. In the end, it turned out that the airport was a few miles from the parking lot. I could have walked it, yes, and then I'd end up just in time to miss my flight.
Just one of the many signs that I haven't flown enough in this postmodern/terror-driven world. At least it isn't as bad as when there were military with AK-47s at security in the months immediately following 9/11, and I've flown once or twice since then, but the last time was a few years past.
Now, Baltimore-Washington Airport is so much brighter and expansive than I remember. Even though it all remains as an enclosed structure, they've been revising and reconstructing and retconning the 'port. This is the result.
***
This is me en route to the south. The flight will also hit Ontario thereafter. The overwhelming majority of these individuals are white. There are a few African Americans, and I am the only Asian person. Thoughts of ethnicity dance through my head. Where in blue heaven am I going, and what should I expect?
An Indian woman comes up to the gate, with bags under her eyes so deep you'd think she was in the midst of a medical residency. Thank goodness I'm not the only Asian here. That's a big part of the issue, isn't it? That Me versus World attitude that has driven me and held me back.
The cattle call has begun. I guess I'll have more thoughts when I arrive, and once I get situated.
***
One thing I did want to touch upon: How crazy is it that we strap ourselves into giant metal balloons and allow ourselves to be catapulted across the country? Back in the day, when they catapulted people, it was a punishment. Now, it's a tool/reward. This world is kind of crazy, and I'm, as always, kind of a part of it, kind of separated from it.
What is it that I hate about flying? It's no longer the flying itself. I welcome the enforced opportunity to fall asleep for a couple of hours and take a nap that I wouldn't normally be given the opportunity to take. No, it's the constant background chatter. There are just few enough people that I can make out distinct conversations, yet not enough to make them all blend into a cacophonous mix. Either quiet, or indecipherable noise. The inbetween combines the worst of both worlds.
Most of this weekend was spent running errands and catching up on business. Now, I'm right back out into the wilds. It's interesting, though, these past few weeks have taught me that I need to leave Virginia, and likely leave the tri-state area. Again, I am constantly reserving judgment for when this gets old, but so far, it is still kind of nice. Breaking up the monotony, I think, is the key. Video games are a way to change things up, but ultimately, it's more exciting to go out and see different places.
***
I parked my car in the long term lot, with hopes that I would be able to walk to BWI. Ah, naïve me. In the end, it turned out that the airport was a few miles from the parking lot. I could have walked it, yes, and then I'd end up just in time to miss my flight.
Just one of the many signs that I haven't flown enough in this postmodern/terror-driven world. At least it isn't as bad as when there were military with AK-47s at security in the months immediately following 9/11, and I've flown once or twice since then, but the last time was a few years past.
Now, Baltimore-Washington Airport is so much brighter and expansive than I remember. Even though it all remains as an enclosed structure, they've been revising and reconstructing and retconning the 'port. This is the result.
***
This is me en route to the south. The flight will also hit Ontario thereafter. The overwhelming majority of these individuals are white. There are a few African Americans, and I am the only Asian person. Thoughts of ethnicity dance through my head. Where in blue heaven am I going, and what should I expect?
An Indian woman comes up to the gate, with bags under her eyes so deep you'd think she was in the midst of a medical residency. Thank goodness I'm not the only Asian here. That's a big part of the issue, isn't it? That Me versus World attitude that has driven me and held me back.
The cattle call has begun. I guess I'll have more thoughts when I arrive, and once I get situated.
***
One thing I did want to touch upon: How crazy is it that we strap ourselves into giant metal balloons and allow ourselves to be catapulted across the country? Back in the day, when they catapulted people, it was a punishment. Now, it's a tool/reward. This world is kind of crazy, and I'm, as always, kind of a part of it, kind of separated from it.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Happy Trails
Friday, January 18, 2008. 1830. Train from Penn Station, en route to Union Station. Dark, chilly, but not overly cold.
This is me leaving the client site. This is me wondering if I'll be sent back to the same project in the future.
***
As we were wrapping up this afternoon, R.S. and A.G. asked me where I was going after this project, then asked me on what I would be training the new client. I told them I was actually going down for requirements gathering and design documentation. This surprised them a little. My best guess is they'd assumed I was a dedicated freelance trainer at T.S. In a way, this bodes well, in that I must have performed my training well. Well enough, at least, to have fooled them into thinking I knew what I was doing.
It's also kind of strange, when I asked S.G. how long he'd been on the project, he told me two weeks, the about the same amount of time I've been on the project. He said he was part time, and wasn't ready to train, and didn't know anything about the system. Boy, howdy, did that show when he took over a training session this afternoon. I forgot to tell him about this, but the one thing I hoped he wouldn't say to the session, the one thing that would completely undermine him as a trainer, he said within the first five minutes. "Bear with me, this is my first time doing this."
You never admit you've never taught this class before. They'll pick up on it, especially if they know that training hasn't been going on for too long. You just bite your tongue and go with it. Muddle through, make your mistakes, do it without excuses.
F.G. wasn't much better. Hell, in a way, it was worse, because he'd been on the project for much longer, and tore through it as if it were a hambone and he were a ravenous dog. He finished every slide in a maximum of thirty seconds. Then, today, to show how much he knew, at one point, when a question was asked, he chimed in with an irrelevant point. Useful, yes, covered by the training materials, no, but he threw it in there just to show how smart he was.
Of course, there was also the moment when F.G. gave an answer, L.D. (the project manager) looked up from his book and shook his head no, and F.G. gave a different answer. This answer was even more incorrect, and L.D. was shaking his head wildly.
I'm not worried all that much about R.S. and A.G. They're competent, knowledgeable about the system, and will do fine. It's when S.G. and F.G. are alone (or, even worse, paired together) that things will go downhill quickly.
***
We had some incredible responses and quotes. One guy swore to me that a certain section of the system would never work because it ran counter to all of human evolution. Human beings had been conditioned to accept paper, and thus, would never accept an electronic system. I like to think of him as full of shit.
One kindly gentleman raised his hand at 0930 and told us that they normally took a coffee break at 0940. I only found out later that his coffee break was supposed to be 1000-1015 due to his union contract. It didn't matter for the union guys, they all took their sweet time and came back whenever they felt like it.
I was personally helping a man who was about to celebrate his fiftieth year at the company. He did not use computers at all, and told me that he signed stuff when they gave it to him, and he would send emails every so often. I kept working with him on the system, showing him what and where to go, and he finally asked if he could have me as an assistant over his shoulder to help him use the system. Nice old man, with the hair so white it looked canary yellow, I wish I could help you. You were one of the nicest gentlemen there, even if you'd never really be able to use the system.
One person berated L.D. for not living in the real world, and not knowing how the employees did their work. L.D. took most furious offense at this, but kept his mouth shut. After all, his wife just had a baby, and he needs to be able to help support his family. Still, L.D. got real pissed at that point.
You had your normal assortment of doubters and ne'er-do-wells criticizing the system. Some of them actually had legitimate comments, and I appreciate full well their help in getting this system to where they will ultimately need it to be. Some of them were just making shit up to be difficult (I swear). And some just had no clue about the system whatsoever. One gentleman would disregard my comments, then ask me the question just after I talked about them.
I just fell asleep for ten minutes and woke up to two pages of semi-coherent gibberish. How am I already falling asleep at 1900?
***
I had White Castle, but it wasn't good. No, it was out and out great. 4 burgers, fries and onion rings, plus a large drink, for less than nine dollars. Is it any wonder this trip will make me a giant fat ass?
***
This week has basically compressed itself into a two day period. I trained for most of the week, twice a day, saying the same damned thing over and over, then concluded by commenting and critiquing on other presenters.
It's not a stretch to say that over these past two weeks, I simultaneously said both more and less than I have over the past three months. Many many more words left my mouth; indeed, that was probably the wordiest I have ever been, or ever will be. At the same time, did I say anything of substance? Well, maybe. D.I. expressed surprise/pride that I was able to learn some of the client's business processes after coming in with no knowledge of the project whatsoever. Then again, will it actually make a difference? God only knows. At least I've given them the opportunity to try to learn their system, if they even cared.
There's part of me wondering why the lady next to me is reading this. Yes, lady, this means you.
***
This morning, as I was waiting in the lobby for someone to pick me up, I saw the people coming into the building. About one in twenty, I recognized. Not a clue about their names, but I knew their faces. That's kind of scary. I probably directly trained about one hundred people, and was in the room for one hundred and sixty total. That's kind of horrifying, don't you think?
The question, has this turned me off from teaching? Not at all. It was kind of cool, in a perverted way. Plus, teaching, I'd be able to different things every day. It wouldn't be the same damned thing over and over.
***
I feel like reading for a while. Next up: Tennessee.
This is me leaving the client site. This is me wondering if I'll be sent back to the same project in the future.
***
As we were wrapping up this afternoon, R.S. and A.G. asked me where I was going after this project, then asked me on what I would be training the new client. I told them I was actually going down for requirements gathering and design documentation. This surprised them a little. My best guess is they'd assumed I was a dedicated freelance trainer at T.S. In a way, this bodes well, in that I must have performed my training well. Well enough, at least, to have fooled them into thinking I knew what I was doing.
It's also kind of strange, when I asked S.G. how long he'd been on the project, he told me two weeks, the about the same amount of time I've been on the project. He said he was part time, and wasn't ready to train, and didn't know anything about the system. Boy, howdy, did that show when he took over a training session this afternoon. I forgot to tell him about this, but the one thing I hoped he wouldn't say to the session, the one thing that would completely undermine him as a trainer, he said within the first five minutes. "Bear with me, this is my first time doing this."
You never admit you've never taught this class before. They'll pick up on it, especially if they know that training hasn't been going on for too long. You just bite your tongue and go with it. Muddle through, make your mistakes, do it without excuses.
F.G. wasn't much better. Hell, in a way, it was worse, because he'd been on the project for much longer, and tore through it as if it were a hambone and he were a ravenous dog. He finished every slide in a maximum of thirty seconds. Then, today, to show how much he knew, at one point, when a question was asked, he chimed in with an irrelevant point. Useful, yes, covered by the training materials, no, but he threw it in there just to show how smart he was.
Of course, there was also the moment when F.G. gave an answer, L.D. (the project manager) looked up from his book and shook his head no, and F.G. gave a different answer. This answer was even more incorrect, and L.D. was shaking his head wildly.
I'm not worried all that much about R.S. and A.G. They're competent, knowledgeable about the system, and will do fine. It's when S.G. and F.G. are alone (or, even worse, paired together) that things will go downhill quickly.
***
We had some incredible responses and quotes. One guy swore to me that a certain section of the system would never work because it ran counter to all of human evolution. Human beings had been conditioned to accept paper, and thus, would never accept an electronic system. I like to think of him as full of shit.
One kindly gentleman raised his hand at 0930 and told us that they normally took a coffee break at 0940. I only found out later that his coffee break was supposed to be 1000-1015 due to his union contract. It didn't matter for the union guys, they all took their sweet time and came back whenever they felt like it.
I was personally helping a man who was about to celebrate his fiftieth year at the company. He did not use computers at all, and told me that he signed stuff when they gave it to him, and he would send emails every so often. I kept working with him on the system, showing him what and where to go, and he finally asked if he could have me as an assistant over his shoulder to help him use the system. Nice old man, with the hair so white it looked canary yellow, I wish I could help you. You were one of the nicest gentlemen there, even if you'd never really be able to use the system.
One person berated L.D. for not living in the real world, and not knowing how the employees did their work. L.D. took most furious offense at this, but kept his mouth shut. After all, his wife just had a baby, and he needs to be able to help support his family. Still, L.D. got real pissed at that point.
You had your normal assortment of doubters and ne'er-do-wells criticizing the system. Some of them actually had legitimate comments, and I appreciate full well their help in getting this system to where they will ultimately need it to be. Some of them were just making shit up to be difficult (I swear). And some just had no clue about the system whatsoever. One gentleman would disregard my comments, then ask me the question just after I talked about them.
I just fell asleep for ten minutes and woke up to two pages of semi-coherent gibberish. How am I already falling asleep at 1900?
***
I had White Castle, but it wasn't good. No, it was out and out great. 4 burgers, fries and onion rings, plus a large drink, for less than nine dollars. Is it any wonder this trip will make me a giant fat ass?
***
This week has basically compressed itself into a two day period. I trained for most of the week, twice a day, saying the same damned thing over and over, then concluded by commenting and critiquing on other presenters.
It's not a stretch to say that over these past two weeks, I simultaneously said both more and less than I have over the past three months. Many many more words left my mouth; indeed, that was probably the wordiest I have ever been, or ever will be. At the same time, did I say anything of substance? Well, maybe. D.I. expressed surprise/pride that I was able to learn some of the client's business processes after coming in with no knowledge of the project whatsoever. Then again, will it actually make a difference? God only knows. At least I've given them the opportunity to try to learn their system, if they even cared.
There's part of me wondering why the lady next to me is reading this. Yes, lady, this means you.
***
This morning, as I was waiting in the lobby for someone to pick me up, I saw the people coming into the building. About one in twenty, I recognized. Not a clue about their names, but I knew their faces. That's kind of scary. I probably directly trained about one hundred people, and was in the room for one hundred and sixty total. That's kind of horrifying, don't you think?
The question, has this turned me off from teaching? Not at all. It was kind of cool, in a perverted way. Plus, teaching, I'd be able to different things every day. It wouldn't be the same damned thing over and over.
***
I feel like reading for a while. Next up: Tennessee.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Ethically Questionable
I just agreed to take the Multistate Professional Responsibility Examination for no other reason than C.S. asking me if I would. This has no benefit to me personally as I didn't score high enough on the multiple choice section of the bar exam to waive into the District of Columbia bar (missed it by three points). The only reason I'm going to do this is because my friend asked.
Probably not going to even study that hard for it, as it is an ethics exam, and I'd like to think that I've cultivated a fairly sharp sense of ethics over the years. Really, I'm just going in for firsthand moral support. Is this the essence of friendship? Probably not, but I'm sacrificing a Saturday morning potentially, so maybe it is.
It feels strange, though. It's cracking open long crusted-over wounds, but instead of pain, I just sort of feel neutral. None of the experience ever happened to me. I just went to sleep for three and a half years and awoke with this knowledge. And now, perhaps this coda to the experience. At least, until I am forced to pay dues to renew my Maryland bar membership.
Probably not going to even study that hard for it, as it is an ethics exam, and I'd like to think that I've cultivated a fairly sharp sense of ethics over the years. Really, I'm just going in for firsthand moral support. Is this the essence of friendship? Probably not, but I'm sacrificing a Saturday morning potentially, so maybe it is.
It feels strange, though. It's cracking open long crusted-over wounds, but instead of pain, I just sort of feel neutral. None of the experience ever happened to me. I just went to sleep for three and a half years and awoke with this knowledge. And now, perhaps this coda to the experience. At least, until I am forced to pay dues to renew my Maryland bar membership.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Blog Dump
Sunday, January 13, 2008. 7:58 P.M. Train en route to NY, stopped at a Delaware train station. Rainy, cold, though I expect it to become snowy and cold the further north I travel.
I went to the front desk of the hotel last week to get their phone number. As usual, hindsight and contemplation make me a genius, but dropped in the middle of a situation, I am naught but baseline idiot.
K.T.: Hi, can I get your number?
Female Concierge (F.C.): Sure.
[PAUSE]
What number did you mean?
K.T.: The hotel's number.
F.C.: Oh.
She actually looked a little depressed when I told her that I meant the hotel's phone number, and I didn't figure it out until a while later.
***
I've been doing some work on the train, and now I'm just going to keep it on for the duration of this trip. The man behind me is yakking away on his phone, and as engrossing as I find his family business, I think I'd rather listen to anything but on the train. The techno music on my laptop isn't perfect, but at least I chose it, as opposed to him yammering on and on about him not getting enough sleep. Don't care.
Have I had a weekend? Sure, there was a period where I wasn't working. If I count from when I got to my apartment on Friday night/Saturday morning to when I reached Union Station today, there was almost a good forty-one hours.
So, what have I done? Got some late night food with J.L. after he was so kind and gracious in picking me up from the metro stop. Slept for a few hours, then woke up to the upstairs neighbor's music. It struck me as a little weird that I slept so well in the hotel rooms over the past few weeks, until I realized that there's no sound, and blackout curtains. That's what's missing from my life, and is probably the only reason I'm going to buy a house eventually (aside from all the logical reasons, such as equity, and having a place to call home). If I can set up a place where I can avoid upstairs neighbors, and put up thick curtains, I may be able to get more sleep.
When I woke, I went straight to the laundry room and ran two full weeks' worth of the good stuff. This is what I get for not returning to Virginia (just typed and deleted "Maryland." Always Maryland.). Then, I ironed my clothes, and watched a great show on the History Channel about samurai. I ended up watching that channel for the next 5 hours, also taking in a special on Hell's Angels, MS 13, and the Latin Kings. Lapsed out from being so tired, then drove up to take my parents out to the dinner.
It turns out that Korean barbecue can be very filling, and each plate of meat serves 2-3 people, not 1. We gorged ourselves. I talked with my parents about the happenstances of the past few weeks, and they seem genuinely happy that I'm fairly happy with what's been going on. Of course, my mom asked if I would talk to her friend this week about a legal issue. I, of course, forgot the damned phone in my apartment.
I finished packing my luggage on Sunday morning, in preparation to go play some football before I had to leave the tri-state area again. Please note here I am not a smart man. Final personal injury tally: elbow to the face while I was on my back, skinned knees (through my sweatpants), knee to the calf resulting in charley horse, strained hamstring when I was pushed from behind and ran forward for another five steps before losing my balance, extension on the coughing/phlegm, constant thirst (Why am I so thirsty???).
As we were waiting for everyone to arrive, a second group congregated. Large men, actual jerseys, throwing a football around. We were thrown off, thought they'd reserved the field. Then, they went over to another field, and about an hour later, we saw them playing flag football. Come on.
Thereafter, Chipotle run, then congregating at G.B.'s place to watch the game. And how did the Chargers win? That was a spectacular fourth quarter, and I can't wait to see which players Peyton Manning throws under the bus after this loss. Alas, I had to leave to catch this train, this train which they've now just informed me is arriving at Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love.
I apologize for being so scatterbrained, but as I look out the train, there are throngs waiting to board coach class, while I sit here in business class taking up two seats and comfortable enough to just fall asleep (we did play football for three hours). From now on, if I have to take the train anywhere, it's going to be business class. I may be sheepish, sheep-like in following the crowd, but I don't want to be treated like steerage.
I rarely drive to the District, because I hate driving in the district. I allotted myself eighty minutes to get to my train, which I figure would be more than enough time, about twice as much as I would need. It turned out this time that I made a very good decision.
So, I didn't get lost, but I did avoid taking a left turn because there was a no left turn sign, along with some words beneath. I think now that those words might have been the times when no left turns were allowed, and I probably fell outside of that range.
I ended up getting on several major freeways and driving all over the damned place, getting later and later, closer and closer to missing my train. Thoughts of just quitting T.S. and going to work as a hot dog vendor run through my head. I wonder if they'll let me exchange a ticket that I didn't use. I roll down the windows, despite the rain, because the windows are starting to fog up. The clock on my dash taunts me.
Finally, I do find the directions I used last time I drove myself to Union Station, and those saved me. With about ten minutes to go, I arrive, and tear through the parking lot to park. I have no idea where I parked, just that it's somewhere in the parking structure. Despite my gimpy legs, I manage to run through to the station itself, tear down several escalators, and just as I make it inside, they announce the final boarding call for my train.
Oh, shit.
I run up to the automatic ticket kiosk. There's no time. I put my credit card in and yank it out. Nothing. I try it again, and it tells me to slowly remove the card. A bit of a rush, I force myself to slide it in and out very slowly, and soon enough, my ticket prints out. I go running down the platform, finally able to get to the car, wherein I get in panting and freaked out. However, I did make it. I did make it.
And now, it is time to nap. I've had a busy weekend, and a good game, and I get to rest for a bit.
I wonder if the Giants beat the Cowboys. [They did, 21-17. Wow. –K]
I went to the front desk of the hotel last week to get their phone number. As usual, hindsight and contemplation make me a genius, but dropped in the middle of a situation, I am naught but baseline idiot.
K.T.: Hi, can I get your number?
Female Concierge (F.C.): Sure.
[PAUSE]
What number did you mean?
K.T.: The hotel's number.
F.C.: Oh.
She actually looked a little depressed when I told her that I meant the hotel's phone number, and I didn't figure it out until a while later.
***
I've been doing some work on the train, and now I'm just going to keep it on for the duration of this trip. The man behind me is yakking away on his phone, and as engrossing as I find his family business, I think I'd rather listen to anything but on the train. The techno music on my laptop isn't perfect, but at least I chose it, as opposed to him yammering on and on about him not getting enough sleep. Don't care.
Have I had a weekend? Sure, there was a period where I wasn't working. If I count from when I got to my apartment on Friday night/Saturday morning to when I reached Union Station today, there was almost a good forty-one hours.
So, what have I done? Got some late night food with J.L. after he was so kind and gracious in picking me up from the metro stop. Slept for a few hours, then woke up to the upstairs neighbor's music. It struck me as a little weird that I slept so well in the hotel rooms over the past few weeks, until I realized that there's no sound, and blackout curtains. That's what's missing from my life, and is probably the only reason I'm going to buy a house eventually (aside from all the logical reasons, such as equity, and having a place to call home). If I can set up a place where I can avoid upstairs neighbors, and put up thick curtains, I may be able to get more sleep.
When I woke, I went straight to the laundry room and ran two full weeks' worth of the good stuff. This is what I get for not returning to Virginia (just typed and deleted "Maryland." Always Maryland.). Then, I ironed my clothes, and watched a great show on the History Channel about samurai. I ended up watching that channel for the next 5 hours, also taking in a special on Hell's Angels, MS 13, and the Latin Kings. Lapsed out from being so tired, then drove up to take my parents out to the dinner.
It turns out that Korean barbecue can be very filling, and each plate of meat serves 2-3 people, not 1. We gorged ourselves. I talked with my parents about the happenstances of the past few weeks, and they seem genuinely happy that I'm fairly happy with what's been going on. Of course, my mom asked if I would talk to her friend this week about a legal issue. I, of course, forgot the damned phone in my apartment.
I finished packing my luggage on Sunday morning, in preparation to go play some football before I had to leave the tri-state area again. Please note here I am not a smart man. Final personal injury tally: elbow to the face while I was on my back, skinned knees (through my sweatpants), knee to the calf resulting in charley horse, strained hamstring when I was pushed from behind and ran forward for another five steps before losing my balance, extension on the coughing/phlegm, constant thirst (Why am I so thirsty???).
As we were waiting for everyone to arrive, a second group congregated. Large men, actual jerseys, throwing a football around. We were thrown off, thought they'd reserved the field. Then, they went over to another field, and about an hour later, we saw them playing flag football. Come on.
Thereafter, Chipotle run, then congregating at G.B.'s place to watch the game. And how did the Chargers win? That was a spectacular fourth quarter, and I can't wait to see which players Peyton Manning throws under the bus after this loss. Alas, I had to leave to catch this train, this train which they've now just informed me is arriving at Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love.
I apologize for being so scatterbrained, but as I look out the train, there are throngs waiting to board coach class, while I sit here in business class taking up two seats and comfortable enough to just fall asleep (we did play football for three hours). From now on, if I have to take the train anywhere, it's going to be business class. I may be sheepish, sheep-like in following the crowd, but I don't want to be treated like steerage.
I rarely drive to the District, because I hate driving in the district. I allotted myself eighty minutes to get to my train, which I figure would be more than enough time, about twice as much as I would need. It turned out this time that I made a very good decision.
So, I didn't get lost, but I did avoid taking a left turn because there was a no left turn sign, along with some words beneath. I think now that those words might have been the times when no left turns were allowed, and I probably fell outside of that range.
I ended up getting on several major freeways and driving all over the damned place, getting later and later, closer and closer to missing my train. Thoughts of just quitting T.S. and going to work as a hot dog vendor run through my head. I wonder if they'll let me exchange a ticket that I didn't use. I roll down the windows, despite the rain, because the windows are starting to fog up. The clock on my dash taunts me.
Finally, I do find the directions I used last time I drove myself to Union Station, and those saved me. With about ten minutes to go, I arrive, and tear through the parking lot to park. I have no idea where I parked, just that it's somewhere in the parking structure. Despite my gimpy legs, I manage to run through to the station itself, tear down several escalators, and just as I make it inside, they announce the final boarding call for my train.
Oh, shit.
I run up to the automatic ticket kiosk. There's no time. I put my credit card in and yank it out. Nothing. I try it again, and it tells me to slowly remove the card. A bit of a rush, I force myself to slide it in and out very slowly, and soon enough, my ticket prints out. I go running down the platform, finally able to get to the car, wherein I get in panting and freaked out. However, I did make it. I did make it.
And now, it is time to nap. I've had a busy weekend, and a good game, and I get to rest for a bit.
I wonder if the Giants beat the Cowboys. [They did, 21-17. Wow. –K]
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Transit Time
Friday, January 11, 2008. 6:44 PM. Train en route to Union Station, D.C. Flickering fluorescent lighting, but outside is nonetheless kind of dark.
I asked a woman at the end of the train whether or not a seat was taken, and she said that it was already taken, but there was another seat just across from her that wasn't. After I sat down, five minutes in, I saw her reach into the coach bag across from her, pull some stuff out, then sit down in it. Nice move, lady. Go fuck yourself.
A little while later, it turns out that she actually was saving it for someone, who is apparently getting wasted in the club car. Good for her.
***
This is me as an intellectual mercenary. I go to the highest bidder, do my job, and get out, only to go on to the next job. Form no emotional attachments, don't get involved, just do your job and get out.
***
I'm semi-convinced that all those people convinced emotion is a crutch are just afraid of being hurt. And by that, I mean "I myself feel that…".
***
While eating dinner at Penn Station, a man came up to the person sitting across from me and asked for a dollar. That man replied he had no change. Then, the same man turned to me and asked if I had a dollar.
K.T.: Excuse me?
Strange Man (S.M.): Can you give me a dollar?
K.T.: Oh.
S.M.: I am trying to get something to eat, so anything you can give me would be appreciated.
K.T.: I'll give you a dollar if you tell me a joke.
S.M.: OK, thank you.
[PAUSE]
K.T.: I'll give you a dollar if you tell me a joke.
S.M.: Thank you.
[PAUSE]
K.T.: A joke.
S.M.: What?
K.T.: I'll give you a dollar if you tell me a joke.
S.M. A joke?
K.T.: Yes, a joke.
[PAUSE]
S.M.: Man, I don't know any jokes.
K.T.: Come on, something, anything.
S.M.: Man, I don't know any jokes.
K.T.: Come on, you got to have something.
S.M. I don't know no jokes, but I can dance.
At this juncture, he busts out with a smooth series of moves lifted from the 80s, pop-locking and pointing at the man across from me and myself. The man across from me scowls, while I smile a little broader than I should. I give the man the dollar.
S.M.: Thanks, I was just trying to get something to eat.
K.T.: I just wanted to smile a little.
The reason for that needed laugh will be hinted at later. He offered me a copy of the Onion (normally free), which I declined. As he left, I hoped he would actually get some food, though really, he would just as likely end up getting boozed up and lapsing out somewhere.
Ten minutes later, a new man had sat across from me, and S.M. came through again, this time offering to sell the man a copy of the Onion for a dollar. The man declined. Then, S.M. turned towards me, scowled, and waved his hand down at me, blowing me off.
I sat there chewing my chicken as if it were made of rubber and ashes.
***
It was a regular occurrence for myself and TK to show up at the client site around 0745 and get our visitor badges. The security personnel came to recognize us, though we still had to show our ID cards. That is, until Thursday.
Security Person 1 (S.P.1): Hey, I know you two. [T.K.], right?
T.K.: Uh-huh, that's me.
S.P.1: How's it going, [T.]?
K.T.: Pretty good, you?
Security Person 2 (S.P.2): I don't even remember your names.
The most notable moment of all this was that she called me by my last name, something that's happening more and more as I get older. I'm almost on the verge of just telling everyone to refer to me by my last name (though I've never been posted at a British boarding school). But the fact that a stranger referred to me so, well.
She wasn't the only one to do so. One of the individuals I helped train raised his hand and said "[T.], I have a question." I'd only introduced myself once, at the very beginning, yet he called me by my last name. Cool.
***
T.K. will be my project manager for my next project, but as we both had some free time, we both were posted to this New York project, to get to know each other, and to help with the T.S. bottom line. This involved training end users on how to use the system T.S. helped implement.
T.K.'s experience shows. She has the famed southern manners, and is much more easy-going as a trainer than I am. I'm usually so amped up that I tend to take on a very serious attitude, in order to keep myself from wetting myself.
This contrast usually leads to T.K. getting more questions from the audience. They feel much more comfortable around her. Me, they tend to say much less, because I just have, not an angry look and feel, but more tense, more uptight.
On the few occasions in which I have attempted to inject levity into the training session, the end result has been silence. My delivery has been so deadpan, they are not sure how to react, so the safest route is silence.
Lordy, lordy. Some day, some day.
***
More people have boarded the train. The woman, now sitting across from her son, had no choice but to let a third person have a seat. However, rather than lift her bags up and let the woman sit down next to her, she sold out her son, whom is now seated next to the woman. What a bitch.
***
One of the great things about training is the mix of individuals you get. Some are so old, they fall asleep during the class (though this may be a testament to my utter failure to inject much-needed liveliness into the training. I feel so bad for them, they're so at peace, I don't want to wake them up.
Then there's the union people. You can tell these guys fairly quickly. One of them actually raised his hand at 9:35 and told us "We usually get a break at 9:40." Ballsy. Come on, dude, you've been here for seventy minutes. We break at ten.
Then there was the guy looking at a power point slide of the world's ten strangest animals. During the class, while I was walking around helping people through an exercise. Most people checked their email (and I couldn't really say much, I'd be doing the same damned thing in a training session). What really got me was when I called him out on it, and he just kept clicking.
This same guy, long, curly hair, rimless glasses, could be a hipster if he weren't in a corporate setting, he was falling asleep several times during the session, so I was clapping my hands out of nowhere and getting really excited to try and wake him.
There are the ones that come out both guns blazing, attacking you, ready to verbally eviscerate you for attempting to foist upon them a system they don't want. What can you do but nod and say their issues will be addressed?
***
I got to give that woman credit, she let her son put his besocked feet on her knee for an extended period of time. Maybe we're all a little bit sinner, a little bit saint.
***
We generally held a morning training and an afternoon training session. During one of the morning sessions, I had one of the most rambunctious groups of end users I'll ever see. These guys belonged in an Ivy League fraternity house.
There was one gentleman that kept quieting them down, telling them to keep quiet so I could talk. Then, a little later, he asked me when the break was, and I told him it would be around 1000. Turned out he wanted to get out on time so he could move his car.
Owning a car in New York is as much hindrance as convenience. Apparently street sweepers twice weekly scourge the pavement, forcing drivers to relocate their armored carriages. Then, there's the cost of daily parking. Cheapest deal I saw was around eighteen dollars on the day. Eighteen freaking dollars, 8 freaking hours. One garage offered a half hour's parking time for the low price of almost ten dollars. Ten freaking dollars. I didn't learn about these prices until after this man, and started putting it all together. Had I known this, I would've let the guy out even earlier.
This is in addition to the prices of parking and traffic tickets, reaching up to the triple digits. Ridiculous, a racket. One of the many reasons that it's fun to visit New York, especially on business trips, but living there would be what we would term Mistake One-A. (You can guess what Mistake One is reserved for, now and forevermore.)
***
Woman's kid is hyper off the charts. The longer I sit here, the more I see a sympathetic figure, a tired mother, once beautiful, now caking on makeup and a fresh hair style in an attempt to stave off inevitable age, reading a book by Norman Vincent Peale entitled "The Power of Positive Thinking" (Have I read this?), trapped in a life she may not have necessarily wanted for herself, but has now taken on, taking her ten-year old son to the dining car in an attempt to help keep him from going crazy and pissing off all the train passengers around him.
***
Caught a nice disease from T.K., some sort of cold. Probably got it when I lent her my mouse to use. Racked my throat something fierce. She was also sick as a dog. This is good when your two primary trainers are having trouble speaking, that they have to give half-day training sessions.
Nowhere was this more painful than at the apex of my sickness, when I was doing a followup session. One boorish, overly large gentleman sat down in the seat next to me, and said he wanted to be able to hear me. Then he keeps telling me to speak louder and louder.
I'm sitting right next to you, you Dr. Robotnik knockoff. Go polish your head somewhere else, and get out of my sight.
Because of this sickness, I had to break down and go get some meds. Go to a walk-in clinic after work one day and fill out a series of forms. Wait for an hour, then get seen by the doctor for two minutes. He asks me the same damned questions that the forms did, then writes me a prescription for an antibiotic. Tells me to wait for two days, and if it doesn't get better, then I can go get the scrip. Until then, normal cold medicines and rest should do the trick.
Thanks, doc, for overprescribing antibiotics and not really paying attention.
I resisted for the longest time, but ended up taking the antibiotics. They really helped. I'm also somehow contributing to the new strain of antibiotic-resistant bugs. Damnit.
***
During one of the training session breaks, I was having a talk with one of the end users about the system. He was really getting into it, talking about it and what it could do. Finally, he asks me:
End User (E.U.): So, tell me, what do you do, are you an engineer?
K.T.: No, I'm a business analyst.
E.U.: Oh.
Just like that, the joy left him, and he left the room. I don't even recall what he looks like now.
***
G.H. emailed me while I was in New York and informed me that Subway caters six-foot long subs, and they were going to attempt to organize two teams of five people each to go to town on the sub. I told him that I'd plan for that.
Then I found out that I was extended for a week, and would not be able to coordinate in person. I offered to coordinate from New York, but they don't even have the drive to get people together.
Turns out that a lot of the time, you need one person to do the work, and the rest will follow. The difficulty is in finding that one person. Right now in the office, there's no one that stepped up to fill my temporary/permanent void. This also means that all my hard work is going down the tubes. At least I will be back in the office on a more permanent basis within a month or two. By that point, will there be anyone not on travel?
We are just intellectual mercs.
***
A.A. is on one of his medical rotations in New York. We decided to meet up to grab some food. He leads us down the street and says "I know this great place that sells kabobs."
Thirty minutes later we continue to wander through the city. At this point, he tells me:
A.A.: You know, I should have paid more attention when I went there.
K.T.: Good call.
A.A.: I probably shouldn't have had fourteen beers right before.
K.T.: The f*** is wrong with you?
Why don't you tell me this s***?
G** D*** [A.A.], G** D***.
***
I met up with J.P. at the T.S. New York office to play games over the land area network. Told him I was hungry, so we started walking. He mentioned several options, such as a kabob place (What is it about New York and kabobs?), an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet, and a hot dog joint.
K.T.: Wait, Papaya King?
J.P.: Yeah.
K.T.: OK, we have to go there.
G.B. and someone else told me that I had to go there and get the papaya drink. This was a perfect opportunity. J.P. ordered four dogs with kraut and mustard, fries and a papaya drink. I got a dog with kraut and mustard (when in Rome), fries, and a papaya drink.
Let's put it this way: Papaya King is now my new idolatrous god.
As a bit of what we like to call character building, over the course of the night, J.P. also had two rice krispie treats, a candy cane, several bags of chips, and a couple of root beers (from what I recall).
***
Travel has worn on me physically already (see the sickness), but it hasn't yet worn on me mentally. When will it? Right now, my only real worry is that my mailbox can't hold 11 days worth of junk mail, thus rejecting the two or three important pieces of mail which will get bounced out.
***
T.K.: So, [D.I.] said they're bouncing the server.
[K.T. stares]
K.T.: I don't understand what you mean.
T.K.: They're bouncing it. They're rebooting.
K.T.: Oh.
I hear "bounce" in that context, I think roll out, leave, exit stage left.
***
Due to my sickness, I didn't spend much time running or leaving my hotel room on my off-time. Thus, one fateful Monday night, I decided to turn on American Gladiators for the background.
Why is there so much contrived drama? And why is Crush now my [haha] crush?
G.B. had recorded it, and was watching at a later time. I was talking to him over the internets, when suddenly,
G.B.: HOLY S***
K.T.: What?
G.B.: you're on american gladiators
I sat up straight and looked around. Was G.B. on the drugs? Then I thought back, and one of the male competitors resembled me, only much cockier than I could ever be in an athletic setting. That was me if it was a Super Smash Bros.: Melee tournament. It was weird.
And yes, I won my preliminary round matchup.
***
Though I'm training all day at the client site, I still return to the office from which I'm working every so often, whether to help revise a training manual or drop off my stuff.
In no particular order, here are the accents I hear: Caribbean, Russian, Persian, Souther, New Yorker, Chinese, Scottish, British, and, of course, my own mellifluous slight Baltimoron accent, by way of Sesame Street.
***
I hate hotel housekeeping. Stay the f*** out of my stuff. Had I not just stayed in New York for eleven days, I would've kept the Do Not Disturb sign on my hotel room door the entire time.
***
Saturday saw me go down to Broadway to watch a Broadway play. I had to pass through Times Square to get there.
This is not true. I did not strictly have to, but I wanted to.
It is a complete f***ing spectacle. I went at noontime, and somehow Times Square managed to outshine the noonday sun. How do you do that, outside, in broad daylight? You overuse neon lighting and giant plasma television screens and anything you can think of to shine a bright light every which way.
Thanks to B.M., I found out that there's an organization called TKTS which sells tickets to Broadway plays at half price. Bam. Avenue Q it is, and I only had to wait in line for about twenty minutes.
Avenue Q came highly recommended by both B.M. and R.L. R.L. clinched it when he sent me a link to a song from the musical, entitled "What Do You Do with a B.A. in English." This has now been committed to memory, and will be encoded to a portable music player, probably my phone, and played as my (ironic) theme song when I find it necessary to play one.
***
Almost ninety minutes spent typing this up, and I don't revise blog posts.
I asked a woman at the end of the train whether or not a seat was taken, and she said that it was already taken, but there was another seat just across from her that wasn't. After I sat down, five minutes in, I saw her reach into the coach bag across from her, pull some stuff out, then sit down in it. Nice move, lady. Go fuck yourself.
A little while later, it turns out that she actually was saving it for someone, who is apparently getting wasted in the club car. Good for her.
***
This is me as an intellectual mercenary. I go to the highest bidder, do my job, and get out, only to go on to the next job. Form no emotional attachments, don't get involved, just do your job and get out.
***
I'm semi-convinced that all those people convinced emotion is a crutch are just afraid of being hurt. And by that, I mean "I myself feel that…".
***
While eating dinner at Penn Station, a man came up to the person sitting across from me and asked for a dollar. That man replied he had no change. Then, the same man turned to me and asked if I had a dollar.
K.T.: Excuse me?
Strange Man (S.M.): Can you give me a dollar?
K.T.: Oh.
S.M.: I am trying to get something to eat, so anything you can give me would be appreciated.
K.T.: I'll give you a dollar if you tell me a joke.
S.M.: OK, thank you.
[PAUSE]
K.T.: I'll give you a dollar if you tell me a joke.
S.M.: Thank you.
[PAUSE]
K.T.: A joke.
S.M.: What?
K.T.: I'll give you a dollar if you tell me a joke.
S.M. A joke?
K.T.: Yes, a joke.
[PAUSE]
S.M.: Man, I don't know any jokes.
K.T.: Come on, something, anything.
S.M.: Man, I don't know any jokes.
K.T.: Come on, you got to have something.
S.M. I don't know no jokes, but I can dance.
At this juncture, he busts out with a smooth series of moves lifted from the 80s, pop-locking and pointing at the man across from me and myself. The man across from me scowls, while I smile a little broader than I should. I give the man the dollar.
S.M.: Thanks, I was just trying to get something to eat.
K.T.: I just wanted to smile a little.
The reason for that needed laugh will be hinted at later. He offered me a copy of the Onion (normally free), which I declined. As he left, I hoped he would actually get some food, though really, he would just as likely end up getting boozed up and lapsing out somewhere.
Ten minutes later, a new man had sat across from me, and S.M. came through again, this time offering to sell the man a copy of the Onion for a dollar. The man declined. Then, S.M. turned towards me, scowled, and waved his hand down at me, blowing me off.
I sat there chewing my chicken as if it were made of rubber and ashes.
***
It was a regular occurrence for myself and TK to show up at the client site around 0745 and get our visitor badges. The security personnel came to recognize us, though we still had to show our ID cards. That is, until Thursday.
Security Person 1 (S.P.1): Hey, I know you two. [T.K.], right?
T.K.: Uh-huh, that's me.
S.P.1: How's it going, [T.]?
K.T.: Pretty good, you?
Security Person 2 (S.P.2): I don't even remember your names.
The most notable moment of all this was that she called me by my last name, something that's happening more and more as I get older. I'm almost on the verge of just telling everyone to refer to me by my last name (though I've never been posted at a British boarding school). But the fact that a stranger referred to me so, well.
She wasn't the only one to do so. One of the individuals I helped train raised his hand and said "[T.], I have a question." I'd only introduced myself once, at the very beginning, yet he called me by my last name. Cool.
***
T.K. will be my project manager for my next project, but as we both had some free time, we both were posted to this New York project, to get to know each other, and to help with the T.S. bottom line. This involved training end users on how to use the system T.S. helped implement.
T.K.'s experience shows. She has the famed southern manners, and is much more easy-going as a trainer than I am. I'm usually so amped up that I tend to take on a very serious attitude, in order to keep myself from wetting myself.
This contrast usually leads to T.K. getting more questions from the audience. They feel much more comfortable around her. Me, they tend to say much less, because I just have, not an angry look and feel, but more tense, more uptight.
On the few occasions in which I have attempted to inject levity into the training session, the end result has been silence. My delivery has been so deadpan, they are not sure how to react, so the safest route is silence.
Lordy, lordy. Some day, some day.
***
More people have boarded the train. The woman, now sitting across from her son, had no choice but to let a third person have a seat. However, rather than lift her bags up and let the woman sit down next to her, she sold out her son, whom is now seated next to the woman. What a bitch.
***
One of the great things about training is the mix of individuals you get. Some are so old, they fall asleep during the class (though this may be a testament to my utter failure to inject much-needed liveliness into the training. I feel so bad for them, they're so at peace, I don't want to wake them up.
Then there's the union people. You can tell these guys fairly quickly. One of them actually raised his hand at 9:35 and told us "We usually get a break at 9:40." Ballsy. Come on, dude, you've been here for seventy minutes. We break at ten.
Then there was the guy looking at a power point slide of the world's ten strangest animals. During the class, while I was walking around helping people through an exercise. Most people checked their email (and I couldn't really say much, I'd be doing the same damned thing in a training session). What really got me was when I called him out on it, and he just kept clicking.
This same guy, long, curly hair, rimless glasses, could be a hipster if he weren't in a corporate setting, he was falling asleep several times during the session, so I was clapping my hands out of nowhere and getting really excited to try and wake him.
There are the ones that come out both guns blazing, attacking you, ready to verbally eviscerate you for attempting to foist upon them a system they don't want. What can you do but nod and say their issues will be addressed?
***
I got to give that woman credit, she let her son put his besocked feet on her knee for an extended period of time. Maybe we're all a little bit sinner, a little bit saint.
***
We generally held a morning training and an afternoon training session. During one of the morning sessions, I had one of the most rambunctious groups of end users I'll ever see. These guys belonged in an Ivy League fraternity house.
There was one gentleman that kept quieting them down, telling them to keep quiet so I could talk. Then, a little later, he asked me when the break was, and I told him it would be around 1000. Turned out he wanted to get out on time so he could move his car.
Owning a car in New York is as much hindrance as convenience. Apparently street sweepers twice weekly scourge the pavement, forcing drivers to relocate their armored carriages. Then, there's the cost of daily parking. Cheapest deal I saw was around eighteen dollars on the day. Eighteen freaking dollars, 8 freaking hours. One garage offered a half hour's parking time for the low price of almost ten dollars. Ten freaking dollars. I didn't learn about these prices until after this man, and started putting it all together. Had I known this, I would've let the guy out even earlier.
This is in addition to the prices of parking and traffic tickets, reaching up to the triple digits. Ridiculous, a racket. One of the many reasons that it's fun to visit New York, especially on business trips, but living there would be what we would term Mistake One-A. (You can guess what Mistake One is reserved for, now and forevermore.)
***
Woman's kid is hyper off the charts. The longer I sit here, the more I see a sympathetic figure, a tired mother, once beautiful, now caking on makeup and a fresh hair style in an attempt to stave off inevitable age, reading a book by Norman Vincent Peale entitled "The Power of Positive Thinking" (Have I read this?), trapped in a life she may not have necessarily wanted for herself, but has now taken on, taking her ten-year old son to the dining car in an attempt to help keep him from going crazy and pissing off all the train passengers around him.
***
Caught a nice disease from T.K., some sort of cold. Probably got it when I lent her my mouse to use. Racked my throat something fierce. She was also sick as a dog. This is good when your two primary trainers are having trouble speaking, that they have to give half-day training sessions.
Nowhere was this more painful than at the apex of my sickness, when I was doing a followup session. One boorish, overly large gentleman sat down in the seat next to me, and said he wanted to be able to hear me. Then he keeps telling me to speak louder and louder.
I'm sitting right next to you, you Dr. Robotnik knockoff. Go polish your head somewhere else, and get out of my sight.
Because of this sickness, I had to break down and go get some meds. Go to a walk-in clinic after work one day and fill out a series of forms. Wait for an hour, then get seen by the doctor for two minutes. He asks me the same damned questions that the forms did, then writes me a prescription for an antibiotic. Tells me to wait for two days, and if it doesn't get better, then I can go get the scrip. Until then, normal cold medicines and rest should do the trick.
Thanks, doc, for overprescribing antibiotics and not really paying attention.
I resisted for the longest time, but ended up taking the antibiotics. They really helped. I'm also somehow contributing to the new strain of antibiotic-resistant bugs. Damnit.
***
During one of the training session breaks, I was having a talk with one of the end users about the system. He was really getting into it, talking about it and what it could do. Finally, he asks me:
End User (E.U.): So, tell me, what do you do, are you an engineer?
K.T.: No, I'm a business analyst.
E.U.: Oh.
Just like that, the joy left him, and he left the room. I don't even recall what he looks like now.
***
G.H. emailed me while I was in New York and informed me that Subway caters six-foot long subs, and they were going to attempt to organize two teams of five people each to go to town on the sub. I told him that I'd plan for that.
Then I found out that I was extended for a week, and would not be able to coordinate in person. I offered to coordinate from New York, but they don't even have the drive to get people together.
Turns out that a lot of the time, you need one person to do the work, and the rest will follow. The difficulty is in finding that one person. Right now in the office, there's no one that stepped up to fill my temporary/permanent void. This also means that all my hard work is going down the tubes. At least I will be back in the office on a more permanent basis within a month or two. By that point, will there be anyone not on travel?
We are just intellectual mercs.
***
A.A. is on one of his medical rotations in New York. We decided to meet up to grab some food. He leads us down the street and says "I know this great place that sells kabobs."
Thirty minutes later we continue to wander through the city. At this point, he tells me:
A.A.: You know, I should have paid more attention when I went there.
K.T.: Good call.
A.A.: I probably shouldn't have had fourteen beers right before.
K.T.: The f*** is wrong with you?
Why don't you tell me this s***?
G** D*** [A.A.], G** D***.
***
I met up with J.P. at the T.S. New York office to play games over the land area network. Told him I was hungry, so we started walking. He mentioned several options, such as a kabob place (What is it about New York and kabobs?), an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet, and a hot dog joint.
K.T.: Wait, Papaya King?
J.P.: Yeah.
K.T.: OK, we have to go there.
G.B. and someone else told me that I had to go there and get the papaya drink. This was a perfect opportunity. J.P. ordered four dogs with kraut and mustard, fries and a papaya drink. I got a dog with kraut and mustard (when in Rome), fries, and a papaya drink.
Let's put it this way: Papaya King is now my new idolatrous god.
As a bit of what we like to call character building, over the course of the night, J.P. also had two rice krispie treats, a candy cane, several bags of chips, and a couple of root beers (from what I recall).
***
Travel has worn on me physically already (see the sickness), but it hasn't yet worn on me mentally. When will it? Right now, my only real worry is that my mailbox can't hold 11 days worth of junk mail, thus rejecting the two or three important pieces of mail which will get bounced out.
***
T.K.: So, [D.I.] said they're bouncing the server.
[K.T. stares]
K.T.: I don't understand what you mean.
T.K.: They're bouncing it. They're rebooting.
K.T.: Oh.
I hear "bounce" in that context, I think roll out, leave, exit stage left.
***
Due to my sickness, I didn't spend much time running or leaving my hotel room on my off-time. Thus, one fateful Monday night, I decided to turn on American Gladiators for the background.
Why is there so much contrived drama? And why is Crush now my [haha] crush?
G.B. had recorded it, and was watching at a later time. I was talking to him over the internets, when suddenly,
G.B.: HOLY S***
K.T.: What?
G.B.: you're on american gladiators
I sat up straight and looked around. Was G.B. on the drugs? Then I thought back, and one of the male competitors resembled me, only much cockier than I could ever be in an athletic setting. That was me if it was a Super Smash Bros.: Melee tournament. It was weird.
And yes, I won my preliminary round matchup.
***
Though I'm training all day at the client site, I still return to the office from which I'm working every so often, whether to help revise a training manual or drop off my stuff.
In no particular order, here are the accents I hear: Caribbean, Russian, Persian, Souther, New Yorker, Chinese, Scottish, British, and, of course, my own mellifluous slight Baltimoron accent, by way of Sesame Street.
***
I hate hotel housekeeping. Stay the f*** out of my stuff. Had I not just stayed in New York for eleven days, I would've kept the Do Not Disturb sign on my hotel room door the entire time.
***
Saturday saw me go down to Broadway to watch a Broadway play. I had to pass through Times Square to get there.
This is not true. I did not strictly have to, but I wanted to.
It is a complete f***ing spectacle. I went at noontime, and somehow Times Square managed to outshine the noonday sun. How do you do that, outside, in broad daylight? You overuse neon lighting and giant plasma television screens and anything you can think of to shine a bright light every which way.
Thanks to B.M., I found out that there's an organization called TKTS which sells tickets to Broadway plays at half price. Bam. Avenue Q it is, and I only had to wait in line for about twenty minutes.
Avenue Q came highly recommended by both B.M. and R.L. R.L. clinched it when he sent me a link to a song from the musical, entitled "What Do You Do with a B.A. in English." This has now been committed to memory, and will be encoded to a portable music player, probably my phone, and played as my (ironic) theme song when I find it necessary to play one.
***
Almost ninety minutes spent typing this up, and I don't revise blog posts.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Time Enough
I've been exhausted all day, hell, all week. And now, It's almost 1, and I don't want to go to sleep. Not that I'm awake, I'm actually pretty tired. Or is that pretty and tired?
(looks in mirror)
Nope, just pretty tired.
There's no real good reason for me staying up this late, but here I am, whittling away at my sleep time, shaving off precious slivers, till all that's left is a sharp spike that's only going to make me cranky when I wake up, because what was there was just enough to whet my appetite.
I've had no problem sleeping in this hotel room, this foreign room, this room that I have to call home for the next little while. My dreams haven't really been bad, beyond the normal in-a-classroom dreams. A good night's sleep would actually be pretty freaking welcome. So, what's keeping me awake?
Strange as it sounds, this business trip to NY also constitutes a vacation from my normal life. And damn, I did not realize how much I needed it. The working sort of sucks, what with the inconsistencies and problems the project seems mired in. However, up in NY, there's no need to have to deal with all the responsibilities and requirements of "home." Paid off all the immediate debts just before I left, so now I can just do my thing. It feels good, even if most of what I am doing is the same as down there.
This only further whets my appetite for moving out of the DC metro area, or at least back to MD. Most of you I like in one form or another, but not enough of you close enough to me. In addition, some of the best moments in my life have been when I was pretty much alone, out of my comfort zone, and forced to adapt (see: Trip to Europe. Ironically, see also: Law school. One helped me realize I'm likable. The other taught me I can survive).
Here I am, and I do actually need to sleep soon, for we're running low on time to sleep. But I want to hold dearly onto what I have left awake, for it's only a matter of time before I get sucked right back into my normal life, and I don't know if I can readjust so readily.
(looks in mirror)
Nope, just pretty tired.
There's no real good reason for me staying up this late, but here I am, whittling away at my sleep time, shaving off precious slivers, till all that's left is a sharp spike that's only going to make me cranky when I wake up, because what was there was just enough to whet my appetite.
I've had no problem sleeping in this hotel room, this foreign room, this room that I have to call home for the next little while. My dreams haven't really been bad, beyond the normal in-a-classroom dreams. A good night's sleep would actually be pretty freaking welcome. So, what's keeping me awake?
Strange as it sounds, this business trip to NY also constitutes a vacation from my normal life. And damn, I did not realize how much I needed it. The working sort of sucks, what with the inconsistencies and problems the project seems mired in. However, up in NY, there's no need to have to deal with all the responsibilities and requirements of "home." Paid off all the immediate debts just before I left, so now I can just do my thing. It feels good, even if most of what I am doing is the same as down there.
This only further whets my appetite for moving out of the DC metro area, or at least back to MD. Most of you I like in one form or another, but not enough of you close enough to me. In addition, some of the best moments in my life have been when I was pretty much alone, out of my comfort zone, and forced to adapt (see: Trip to Europe. Ironically, see also: Law school. One helped me realize I'm likable. The other taught me I can survive).
Here I am, and I do actually need to sleep soon, for we're running low on time to sleep. But I want to hold dearly onto what I have left awake, for it's only a matter of time before I get sucked right back into my normal life, and I don't know if I can readjust so readily.
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