Archive for category Rants

The NCAA Office Pool

17
Photo by Sonnett

It’s tournament time again, and I thought I’d share my projected first-round winners:

Midwest

  • Kansas
  • UNLV
  • Michigan State
  • Maryland
  • Tennessee
  • Georgetown
  • Georgia Tech
  • Ohio State

I picked Georgia Tech over Oklahoma State, otherwise it’s favorites all the way.

West

  • Syracuse
  • Florida State
  • Butler
  • Vanderbilt
  • Minnesota
  • Pittsburgh
  • BYU
  • Kansas State

Two underdogs here: Florida State and Minnesota.  One of my buddy’s has a son that goes to Florida State, so maybe that swayed me.

East

  • Kentucky
  • Texas
  • Temple
  • Wisconsin
  • Marquette
  • New Mexico
  • Missouri
  • West Virginia

The only underdog that I picked here was Missouri.

South

  • Duke
  • Louisville
  • Texas A&M
  • Purdue
  • Notre Dame
  • Baylor
  • Richmond
  • Villanova

Louisville over California is the only underdog pick.

You can check out all of my picks by clicking on the following Excel file: NCAA

Tomorrow: My 2nd round projected winners.  I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

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Lights Out!

Lights Out
Photo by B Rosen

A while ago, I talked about my company’s newest green initiative, which consisted of most of the lights being turned off at lunch time.  I know a few facilities people received some type of award for this brainstorm, and they were flown, business class no less, to our company’s headquarters for a ceremony.  I don’t know what the carbon footprint is of a transaltlantic flight, but it would seem to negate some of the savings from leaving us in the dark.  I hope they enjoyed their in-flight cocktails while we ate our lunches in the semi-darkness.

Each day, there’s a groan heard throughout the building when the lights are shut at noon.  Another sound can be heard when they go back on again, something akin to a primitive tribe viewing the magic of a Zippo lighter for the first time (I guess my coworkers are easily amused).  I try not to make it a habit to work long hours in the office, mainly because I have a life outside of work, but sometimes deadlines make that unavoidable.  I discovered that our lunch hour phenomenon repeats itself in the early evening (I took it as a sign from God that I should go home to my family).  It was during my walk through the darkened corridors to the exit that I had a brainstorm.

Why not leave the lights on during lunch, when there are hundreds of people in the office, and shut them off a half an hour earlier at night, when there are maybe 20 poor souls toiling away?  This way, only a few people are inconvenienced, rather than the whole workforce.  The few that are left at the end of the day seem to be repeat offenders.  While some people are actually fighting deadlines, I suspect others, such as my nemesis the Office Snitch, don’t have anything to go home to.

Screw ‘em, I say.  Let them ply their trade in the darkness.  Then I can paraphrase Winston Churchill by saying:

Never in the field of inconvenience was so much owed by so many to so few.

churchill41wyf934njl_aa300_

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Things to Do in a Boring Meeting

Serves her right
Photo by riddle_

I was in a weekly program status meeting today.  Call me the token beancounter.  I attended just to give the impression that the finance department was keeping an eye on the exploits of these engineers, and that they didn’t go to far off on a tangent, and just stuck to the contract requirements.  I’m not sure if they bought all of that.

After I spoke my piece, I was forced to spend the next hour listening to the propeller heads argue about:

  • the benefits of a swappable circuit card configuration;
  • where to locate a fan in the test bench;
  • who was taking the lead in sourcing a new cable.

If you don’t understand what these things mean, don’t worry - I didn’t either.  Also, what had started out as a status meeting morphed into a staff meeting for the lead engineer and his underlings.  I couldn’t blame them; their group has been stretched thin by layoffs and attrition, so it was probably the only time most of them had been in the same room in a while.

But now I’m getting off-topic.  While the engineers were engaged in heavy technical discussions, I passed the time gazing out the window at a white birch tree.  I tracked the flight of a red-tail hawk as he flew over our parking lot, and thought about how many emails would be awaiting me at my computer.  It was then that I vowed to be better prepared for a boring meeting.

“The problem with doing nothing is not knowing when you’re finished.” - John Corey, in Nelson DeMille’s novel Plum Island

Here are some of the ideas that I brainstormed while I served out my sentence:

  1. Bring some paperwork with you - if you can do it inconspicuously, why not pass the time by catching up on some real work?  Try to limit it to actual work; one of my buddies got busted for balancing his checkbook in a staff meeting.
  2. Answer emails - if you’re blessed cursed with having a Blackberry, you can knock several emails out of your inbox while someone is droning on about test program cycle times.  Why not use this freedom-robbing device for your own benefit?
  3. Drinking game - keep track of how many times someone says “system”  during the course of the meeting.  Then, have that number of drinks after work.
  4. Beating game - if anyone utters “proactive” more than twice, drag them out to the hallway and beat the living shit out of them.  There, that feels better!  Bow to the applause as you return to the conference room.
  5. Separated at birth - look around the room, and try to figure out which celebrity or historical figure each person physically resembles.  In this meeting alone, I got Grizzly Adams, Charles Bronson, Napoleon Dynamite, Ruth Buzzi, Droopy Dog, James Caan, Aaron Neville, T-Bag from Prison Break, Kathy Bates, and Bobby Knight.  A few participants defied description.
  6. Grab some Z’s - this only works when the room is dark, otherwise it’s too obvious.  Larger crowds offer better protection from discovery.  Not recommended if you snore.  Or drool.
  7. Stare out the window - provided you ‘re in a conference room with windows.  Watching that hawk sure put me in a better mood.  It doesn’t have to be a hawk; maybe an attractive person might be bending over to pick up something that she dropped, and she’s wearing those pants that…well, OK, I’m a pig.  Use your imagination.
  8. Daydream - if you’re certain that you won’t be called upon, why not let your mind wander?  You might be able to let your subconcious solve a problem.  You could even combine it with staring out the window.
  9. Paging Mr. Ben Dover - have a prearranged time when a coworker buddy calls the conference room to request your presence at an urgent meeting.  When I worked in a building with a paging system, we used to do this all the time.  The receptionist would call you over the P.A. system to report to the boss’ office, and you were home free.  So long, suckers! (That was 2 “systems”, for those keeping track)
  10. Pay attention - a last resort, perhaps, but if you really want to broaden your horizons, you could try to get past the technical jargon to really understand what’s going on.  I usually can pick up a few new terms in these meetings.  It helps when trying to relate to the engineers, who are a different species than us beancounters.  I think this is a proven fact, but I could be wrong.

What do you do to pass the time in those mind-numbing meetings?

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I Hate the Olympics

I know.  BLASPHEMY!  UNPATRIOTIC!  I love most sports, at least the ones that fit George Carlin’s definition of a sport.  I’m a die-hard Yankees fan.  I love the football Giants.  I never missed a Knicks game when Patrick Ewing was in the pivot.  I was ecstatic to hear the “1940″ chant go into mothballs when the Blue Shirts won the Stanley Cup back in 1994.  But I couldn’t care less about the Olympics.

Uh, I thought we were going to watch sports…

Curling.  The luge.  Ice dancing?  Are you f-ing kidding me?  About the only event that I’ll watch is hockey, which according to Carlin, isn’t a sport because it’s played with a puck.  I saw the Miracle on Ice back in 1980, but I missed the Canadian women’s celebration after their gold medal win, and I’m sorry that I did.  Looks like they did it up right, smoking cigars and pounding brewskis.  Hey, those are two of my favorite food groups!  All that was missing were the chicken wings and it could have been my last Super Bowl party.  But apparently this earthy celebration was decidedly un-Olympian, at least according to the IOC.  Well, I call bullshit.

A proud sponsor…

If you check this page of Winter Olympics sponsors and suppliers, you’ll notice that Molson and Coors are listed (I couldn’t find Rocky Patel,  or even White Owl).  So maybe this was just good product placement by the athletes.  No stink is ever raised when Tim McCarver is soaked with champagne in the winner’s clubhouse after the World Series.  Maybe the Canadian women were just drinking a brand of beer that wasn’t an Olympic sponsor.  Or that Canadians are held to a higher standard of public behavior than us knuckle-dragging Yanks.  I mean, who but their families were watching this match anyway?  There was probably a larger viewing audience at my wisdom tooth extraction.  Let the ladies have their moment in the sun.

Branding opportunities

Think of the commercial opportunities for these women.  I mean, there’s no professional league at the end of this, so they might as well make hay when the sun shines, so to speak.  I can see a spread in Cigar Aficionado, with the ladies puffing on their favorite puros, debating the superiority of Maduro wrappers to the Connecticut kind.  Maybe a joint commercial with AMF and Budweiser, where the Canadians can play the Americans in gold-medal beer pong.  Think how much weight an endorsement by Marie-Philip Poulin will carry when college students are deciding on their dorm-room equipment.  Hockey players generally don’t clean up in endorsements; they better strike while the iron is hot (I’ve now reached my two-clichés-per-paragraph limit).

Hypocrites

It’s funny how it’s OK to drink beer when it’s officially sanctioned by the IOC.  Hell, even McDonald’s is a sponsor.  The same company that Goose Gossage said was poisoning the world with their hamburgers.  You can bet that Michael Phelps isn’t running to Mickie D’s when he has the munchies; it’s always a trip to Subway after a joint.  They don’t get on his case.

As far as the controversy, I couldn’t care less about that, either.  Pitchers and catchers have already reported to Spring Training, and I’ll be able to watch a real sport pretty soon.

With a Sam Adams in one hand and a Gurkha Ancient Warrior in the other.

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  • Serves her rightThings to Do in a Boring Meeting Photo by riddle_ I was in a weekly program status meeting today.  Call me the token beancounter.  I attended just to give the impression that the finance department was keeping an eye on the exploits of these engineers, and that they didn't go to far off on a tangent,......
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Dashing Through the Snow…

Snow Plow
Photo by jronaldlee

…or should I say, sloshing through the snow.  Another Friday, another snowstorm.  Nothing quite like waking up to a morning of snow shoveling before heading off to work.  I must be getting old; I used to live for days like today, when I picked up extra money by shoveling driveways.  Now, I pray for the temperature to stay above freezing.  The first sight of a snowflake sends my back into spasms.  And this morning, my waterproof boots let me down.  Time for another application of Sno Seal.  I’d move south, but I’m way too wired for the slower pace.  I’m sure the feeling would be mutual.

My secret

I’ve taken a few steps to make the morning less miserable.  The night before a storm, I make sure that the ice melt and snow shovels are at the ready.  I also use a little trick that I learned from the Equipped to Survive forum: I place a cheap pair of rubber floor mats over my car’s windshield, and use the wipers to hold them in place.  When I’m ready to leave, I just raise the wiper blades, and pull the snow-laden mats from the now-clean windshield.  Ta-da!  Definitely saves on the ice scraping, and allows for a quicker getaway in the morning.  Maybe I’ll upgrade to an Ed Hardy set:

edhardymat51kd3rum47l_sl160_

All present and accounted for

An interesting phenomenon has repeated itself several times at the office: while the parking lot appears to be rather empty, just about everyone from my department has braved the icy streets to man their posts.  The threat of layoffs will do that; nobody wants to be the only one in the group to wuss out.  Their absence will be duly noted, most likely by the Office Snitch.  It’s comforting to know that our company places the safety of its employees above everything, except, of course, profits.  A delayed start would have been welcome.  Schools were closed for the kids.  Snow Day my ass.

I’ve seen this movie

I got a call from an old crony from my last job yesterday.  He left the defense industry and the constant threat of layoffs for the security of a job with the Long Island Rail Road.  The same LIRR which is part of the MTA, which just this week announced that it would eliminate 150 jobs.  So much for job security.  I told him I’d keep my fingers crossed for him (not that I believe in any of that crap).  At least his kids are finished with college.

On second thought, the drive to work wasn’t that bad today. ;-)

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A First Time for Everything?

kissass41arr7ktuol_aa280_

I was in a meeting, along with a number of my coworkers (including the Comedian), with my boss’ boss, Fearless Leader, the VP of Finance for my division.  After his assurance that we, as a company, were on the right track, he went around the room, asking what projects we were working on.  When it was my turn, a gave a rundown of the activities of a team that I’d been selected for, and almost immediately regretted my decision.

As the words were leaving my mouth…

As the words were leaving my mouth, I could imagine what would be waiting for me after the meeting.  I could already see the Comedian making smooching sounds and telling me to wipe the shit off my nose.  He was kind, though, and basically said that you have to kiss ass in times like these.

Now, wait a minute…

WHOA! Kiss ass?  Me?  It goes against everything that I stand for.  All I did was state that I’d been picked for the team, and that we were trying to formulate a cross-division policy on the topic.  That we’d made some strides, and were soliciting the opinions of some additional subject-matter experts.

And you’ll know him by his flailing legs…

Now, I know a kiss-ass when I see one.  In fact, I’ve written about the Office Snitch, ass-kisser bar none.  You can always tell where he is;  just look for my boss.  He’s attached to the pair of legs that stick out of my boss’ rear end.  You can’t see the rest of him, he’s so far up there.  He must have read this book:

asskissersmanual51yd7b95x9l_sl160_

So, don’t be an ass-kisser.  It will just alienate you from the rest of your colleagues.  Let your accomplishments speak for themselves.  Ass-kissing is a short-term strategy at best.

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The Comedian at Work

Every group of workers has a comic amongst them.  He lightens the mood, pointing out the absurdities of rules and procedures.  In my office, our own funny man, much like the Comedian from the Watchmen comics, tends to be a little darker in his approach to humor.

comedian51pp5okt8yl_ss500_

Our Comedian is a true original.  Nobody is safe from his satiric barbs.  He’s quick with a comeback, downplaying his frequent jabs with, “you put that one on a tee for me.”  His appearance is deceiving, too, as he approaches everything with an air of annoyed nonchalance.  It would appear to an outsider that he doesn’t care about his job, his responsibilities, or his coworkers.  That outsider couldn’t be more off base.

The Comedian, you see, is a disguise.  Underneath the facade dwells an intelligent man who cares deeply about his responsibilities.  Those responsibilities include not only his job, but the well-being of his colleagues.  While he might try to convince everyone that he doesn’t give a hoot about anything,  subtle clues emerge about his true intentions.  After some harmless needling, he’ll jump in and help with a problem.  He meets all of his deadlines, and produces quality work.  But there is one thing that he does that’s a dead giveaway to his true self.

His biggest benefit: his honesty.  He ’s the only one who isn’t afraid to say what he truly thinks.  He’s the King Solomon of the office.  If you want the straight dope, you ask the Comedian.  He pulls no punches, and suffers no fools.  Take it or leave it.

He’ll also ask the questions that nobody else has the balls to ask.  During a recent gathering with upper management, he asked the VP what everyone else had on their mind: “So, when do the layoffs start?”  After a stunned silence, the VP gave the standard, non-answer answer.  The Comedian, our champion, rolled his eyes and sat down.  A brave question to ask, but not without its perils.  I’m sure that he now has a bullseye on his back.  No VP likes to be showed up.

The Comedian is our pressure-release valve.  When tensions rise in the office due to unrealistic deadlines, and everyone’s hackles are up, a well-timed one-liner from the Comedian diffuses the tightness in the office.

So I’ll enjoy the Comedian for as long as he shares our foxhole, which may not be long.  Even he acknowledged that possibility, as he asked me after the meeting with the VP, “Where do they keep the cardboard boxes?”  I’ll miss his willingness to take one for the team.

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Blind Loyalty

blindloyalty419f8p3zwkl_sl160_

I had a dog when I was growing up, a sheperd/collie mix.  He was always loyal, even when I, being the little bastard that I could be at times, would mistreat him, like trying to ride on his back like Peter Griffin did to Brian (only Family Guy fans would know what that means).  He was a glutton for punishment, ol’ Bandit the mutt, and if he could talk, he’d probably respond with, “thank you sir may I have another?”

Sucker

Bandit had blind loyalty towards me, his occasionally sadistic child-owner.  Sure, most of the time I was kind to him, but if I were him, I wouldn’t tolerate my occasional lapses into meanness.  There are many people like Bandit; people with unwavering loyalty, no matter how badly they’ve been abused.  My mother had a word for them: Suckers.  In fact, one of my mom’s recurring sayings was, “Don’t be too nice to people.  They’ll walk all over you.” She spoke from experience, as she had many times been the one who’d been taken advantage of.

They walk among us

The suckers, they walk among us.  I have been a sucker many times myself.  If I were a boxer, they’d say that I lead with my chin.  A friend or acquaintance will ask for a favor, and as the words of agreement are leaving my mouth, the little voice in my head will whisper, “Sucker!”  Shit, I did it again. But I’m much less agreeable now then when I was younger.  In fact, I work at being a curmudgeon.  I don’t want to let my mom’s lesson go to waste.  As the narrator in Fight Club said, “I used to be such a nice person.”

…and bless Big Brother, and the CFO…

I’ve worked with people with blind loyalty to their employers.  In their eyes, the company could do no wrong.  Every new policy was implemented with everyone’s best interests in mind.  Yeah, right.  Like the CEO gives a shit about some peon in the Long Island branch.  I’m sure they included the members upper management in their prayers every night.

I pledge allegiance…

And a lot of good that did them.  When I worked at a large multinational conglomerate several years ago, one of my coworkers was a company man, through and through.  We’ll call him Cal.  Such was Cal’s love of the company that I think he believed that the sun shone from our CEO’s ass.  Cal’s immediate boss, who we’ll call the Benevolent Stomper,  was the biggest prick I ever came across, and I’ve worked with some real bastards.  Cal’s undying allegiance was ultimately his undoing.  See, his boss had him groom his ultimate successor.  When I warned Cal about the possible outcome, he dismissed it immediately.  He couldn’t accept that the Benevolent Stomper was having him grease his own skids.  “I’m just helping the company develop young talent” was his argument.

…and receive a kick in the ass

Well, Cal did such a  good a job with his management training, that he was sacked in favor of his protegé.  Oh, the company did find another position for Cal, but he had to take a pay cut, and move to another state.  Bless their little hearts.  I wonder if Cal still includes the Benevolent Stomper in his prayers at night.  I know his wife wasn’t happy about uprooting their kids in the middle of the school year.

People may think that I’m jaded, but it’s good to be suspicious.  I get taken advantage of a lot less often than I used to.  Whenever one of those corporate bulletins comes out trumpeting a policy change, I check for my wallet.  I’m not as gullible as Cal.

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The Week that Everything Broke

I’ve had a rough week.  Not because the transmission went on my car.  Not because my computer was on the shelf for a few days while we worked out some spyware issues.  It wasn’t that my son broke a bracket on his braces, or that our whiz-bang forecasting system at work crashed while we were racing a deadline to finish our 2010 plan.  All of these things seemed trivial after we received the real bad news.

As I was getting ready for work yesterday, my wife received a call from her cousin.  Her cousin’s husband , the Big Guy, had been battling cancer for a few months.  He struggled mightily to overcome it, but apparently he was sicker than we thought.  The Big Guy passed away during the night.  And that folks, was the cherry on top of the shit sundae of my week.

I’d always liked the Big Guy, ever since we sat next to each other at some family party many years ago.  He had suffered through many health issues, including multiple heart attacks, but always had a vibrant air about him.  He reveled us with stories about his vacations to Italy; how he shunned the canned Perillo Tours, and ventured about to find restaurants and museums on his own.

After that introduction, I’d always seek out the Big Guy at family gatherings.  He always had a new story to tell, and I looked forward to hearing them.  And I wasn’t the only one.  The Big Guy would always draw a crowd.  He’d offer advice on new restaurants, or a new wine that he had sampled.  He was very popular, and I never heard anyone say a bad word about him.  We promised to get together more frequently, but you know how that goes.

The Big Guy embodied many of the qualities that I hold dear.  He was a risk taker, a bon vivant, who loved to try new things.  Not content with sitting around the house watching soap operas after retiring from his teaching job, he started a new passion: painting.  He was pretty talented, and he showed us pictures of his artwork at my son’s graduation party last June.

But the thing that I’ll remember most about the Big Guy was his devotion to his wife.  They were clearly an ideal match.  You couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.  They were the perfect compliment to each other, and by the look in their eyes, they understood that.  His passing will be especially hard on her.

Tomorrow, I’ll see the Big Guy for the last time, just before his funeral.  Only this time, he won’t have any new stories to tell me.  I guess that I’ll have to make do with the ones that he shared in the past.

That’s why this week sucked big time.

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Sins of Omission

wash away your sins
Photo by Lori Greig

A husband neglects to tell his wife that he forgot to fill up her car after using all of her gas.  A child doesn’t mention that he failed a science test because it’s close to Christmas.  You neglect to tell your boss that you came in 20 minutes late this morning.  What do these minor sins of omission have in common?  The people who’ve been kept in the dark will find out about it, eventually.

Everybody does it

I guess you could call it karma, or what comes around goes around.  Many times, we don’t share the entire truth with people because A. We don’t want to hurt their feelings, or B. We don’t want to catch a rash of shit for our mistakes.  Probably more often the latter.  I know that I’ve kept things quiet a number of times, usually for my own benefit.  It must be that selfish gene that I was born with; it causes many of my character flaws.

No big deal

Most of these secrets are harmless.  We rationalize them away, because they are minor offenses.  But what happens when we extend our tolerance, and really start to slack off?  What happens when we’re tempted to cover up a major screw-up with silence?  If the inevitable happens, and someone finds out that could do you harm, you’re screwed.  Just like some of the leaders of my company’s finance department.

Big rationalizations

See, there was some concern over the accuracy of our financial statements.  It seems that our leader was turning a blind eye to some shady accounting practices.  I guess he figured that what the auditors didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.  But we have some pretty sharp auditors, the kind that take delight in pouring over balance sheets with a fine-toothed comb.  They get even more excited when they spot something fishy.

Repercussions

So, our finance honcho and his henchmen started to circle the wagons.  This raised even more suspicion (There’s that thing that I mentioned about being found out).  And believe me, there’s hell to pay when you’ve crossed an auditor, and they find out about it.  So, for our CFO, his sin of omission cost him, and his staff, their jobs.

So, if you’re going to keep something to yourself, make sure it’s a minor thing.  You don’t want to get nailed for a big screw-up.  Come clean early; it might save your job.

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