Archive for the 'Life' Category

Back In The Saddle

Wednesday, October 18th, 2006

You’d think that being unemployed, with plenty of time on my hands, would have made me more likely to blog. Yet, it didn’t. I don’t know if that’s because, instead of being relaxed, I spent the entire time in crisis mode, or if it’s because when you sit around the house eight hours a day, seven days a week, you don’t encounter much worth writing about.

Either way, I’m employed again, back in corporate IT. I could kill myself. It’s good to be home.

Looking for a New Job and a New Planet

Monday, September 18th, 2006

It’s Monday morning and everything in the World is normal. Which is to say that it’s completely screwed up. Spinach is public-enemy number one in America, Muslims around the world are committing acts of violence to protest the Pope’s suggestion that Islam is a religion of violence, and the Alpha Centauri system still refuses to recall its planetary ambassador, Tom Cruise.

For me, though, it’s another thrilling week of job hunting. Job hunting is great fun, if “fun” is redefined to include shelving books in a library and several outpatient medical procedures.

Job hunting is just like being a sales rep with a single, dubious product, and no budget for swanky client lunches. Some people lie outright about their qualifications, which is very naughty, but everyone has to inflate their own personal wonderfulness a bit in order to get an interview, much less a job. And prospective employers do the same with their open positions. It’s important to remember that while you may be slightly under-qualified for the job you will eventually get, you will probably be underpaid and unsatisfied, too.

Today my “office” is a neighborhood coffee shop that offers free wireless. I’m here because there aren’t any neighborhood pubs that offer free wireless. Which is probably better for my job search. I’m not the only person using this joint as an office: there are some guys who get here early, set up a complete suite of office equipment at their tables, and stay all day. I can only survive until my personal environmental irritation threshold is exceeded. I have been hovering just below this level for over an hour, now, because I am (a) hungry but too cheap to buy anything, and (b) about to go into kidney failure but too grossed out by the bathroom. The threshold has just been blown to smithereens by the arrival of I-don’t-own-a-toothbrush-but-I-breathe-heavily-man, so I’m on my way out the door.

Jobs Are Overrated

Tuesday, August 29th, 2006

I’m looking for a new job. After seven years of my loyal service and/or web-surfing, the corporation eliminated my position. job books

I wasn’t unhappy about it. I had already decided that it was time to move on, and if they wanted to finance my job search with a severance package (a bribe the corporation gives a departing employee so he won’t swing by later with an assault rifle and 2,000 rounds of armor-piercing ammo), then so much the better.

The only problem is that every job I’m qualified for appears to involve, well, work. I know - I should be a good little American and happily work 80 hours a week, using my spare time to finish the basement and landscape the yard. But I’ve done a lot of work over the years, and I think it’s overrated.

People have been working since the dawn of history. Probably earlier, in fact, because even back then, there was probably a workaholic caveman who got to work while it was still dark. At first, everyone had the same job, gathering or hunting for food. People probably didn’t even think of it as work. It was just something you had to do in order to eat. Like picking a restaurant, nowadays. When enough food had been gathered, and everyone had eaten, then they just sat around the cave, drawing pictures on the walls and making tools.

Then someone had an idea. He realized that he liked making things more than he liked hunting and gathering, and it occurred to him that if someone else were willing to gather enough food for two people, he could make enough tools for two people, and both of them would be happier. “Hey, Thag. You know how much I hate gathering food, right? How about you gather enough nuts and berries for both of us, and I’ll give you this Ford Taurus.” And that was how the used-car-salesman job was invented. It is also interesting to note that the resale value of Fords is exactly the same.

Now here we are, twenty thousand years later, and we have so many different kinds of jobs that hardly anyone remembers that most of them are desperate attempts to avoid having to gather, grow or hunt your own food. Unless you’re a farmer, in which case you’ve made very little progress. Sorry.

In the past, you at least had the ritual of receiving and depositing a paycheck, and paying the bills, to remind you why you work. Now there’s direct deposit. And automatic bill-pay. You have to remind yourself that the reason you sit in a little box with a desk and drink eight hours of coffee, five days a week, is not because you are an incredibly dull person, but because if you don’t the bank will take your house. Your dullness is an unfortunate side-effect.

What scares me about losing my job is not that I won’t find another job like the one I had. It’s that I will. When I started with the company, my job didn’t pay very well, but it made sense. There was an obvious, logical connection between the work I performed and the successful operation of the company. After years of moving upwards in a company that frequently reorganized, refocused and restructured, any such connection eventually was lured into a dark conference room and tortured to death. I couldn’t have described my job without using a lot of made up words and acronyms, and I couldn’t have told you how it helped the corporation without using a shovel.

One time, a financial analyst asked me to estimate the number of hours expended for a particular project. I calculated, to my dismay, that I had spent 542 hours cajoling, begging and threatening three other people into performing 84 hours of actual labor that would have taken me 40 hours to complete had I been allowed to do it all myself. And that doesn’t include the 7.3 hours of drinking it took me to get over the whole affair.

Until I’m able to figure out how to get paid for doing absolutely no work at all, such as by working for the federal government*, I am going to try to find a job that provides me a decent paycheck, good benefits, and the satisfaction of knowing that I’m actually producing something valuable. And then I’m going to win the lottery, photograph the Yeti, and develop a weight-loss plan which doesn’t require eating less or exercising.

* If you’re a hiring manager for the federal government, please note that this statement does not reflect my actual view of the federal government or any of its parts, and was, in fact, almost certainly inserted by evil hackers. Please hire me.

Regarding My Unemployment …

Friday, August 18th, 2006

First, thanks for all the suggestions. Second, it seems likely that I won’t pursue any of them, not even the Midget Wrestler one. (Oh, how tempting it was.)

All the thoughts I have wanted to publish were about my ex-employer and its unbelievably poor management, but I don’t want to run the risk (however unlikely) of someone important at the company discovering my thoughts and revoking my fat severance package. Mrs. SpoonFighter would, like, totally kill me. Suffice to say that the company finally halted its downward spiral, due in large part to the lemonade stand which the CEO’s daughter opened in front of company headquarters.

Since the happy occasion of my termination, I have been reading innumerable books (five) on various career possibilities. The problem is that virtually every job available appears to involve work. Most of them do not pay very well, either. I blame the politicians.

Help SpoonFighter Find A New Career

Tuesday, August 1st, 2006

That’s right, SpoonFighter needs a new career. SF is currently is no longer employed by a larg-ish technology corporation, and would like to do something that is, primarily, not corporate and, if possible, not technical. He would like to try his hand at being a fabulously wealthy playboy, but has not seen any openings for such a position in the paper or on Monster.

Accordingly, SpoonFighter is taking your suggestions for career possibilities, and is open to anything short of “Suicide Bomber.” (Terrible benefits, unless you count the 70 virgins which are supposedly waiting on the other end. However, I suspect that with the upswing in the popularity of suicide bombings, virgins will be on back-order for a long time.)

In a completely unconnected side-note, SF’s department is having a fun little layoff this week. (But no pressure.)

So hit that comment button and tell me what sort of career I should pursue.

You Know You’re A Parent When …

Wednesday, July 26th, 2006

… you stop wondering how much you can drink and still drive legally, and you start wondering how much you can drink and still change your kid’s diaper.

Equal Rights

Wednesday, July 19th, 2006

Note: I am honestly not sure who I’m insulting here. - SF

As you no doubt know by now, Israel has invaded Lebanon in an effort to find Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’ new baby, Suri, who apparently was hustled away minutes after birth and has never been seen by any living human beings, only Scientologists.

But what I am really concerned with, however, is the plight of the world’s Atheists, who - to this very day - do not have a religion of their own.

In my humble* opinion, it is downright descriminatory that Atheists have been denied their basic human right to have a religion, simply because they don’t believe in God.

Many people seem to think that religion is, if nothing else, a belief in some sort of god. How bigoted. Atheists are human beings, just like people who do believe in a god, and they have a right to all the same privileges that god-believers enjoy. They have a right to religion just like everyone else.

Religion is so much more than a divine being. Religon is whacky hats and robes, incense, holy water, ancient scriptures and spiffy temples. Religion is prophets and lists of things that you can’t do, holy wars and people on TV with big hair. Don’t Atheists have a right to these things, too?

The answer, I say, is a resounding YES!! I forsee a day when Athiests will gather together in special buildings to sing beautiful hymns about not believing in anything, when little boy Atheists and little girl Atheists will sit, spellbound, listening to an adult Atheist tell the stories of ancient, mighty unbelievers, using a felt board. I forsee a day when groups of Atheists will go door-to-door, interrupting people in the middle of their favorite TV shows, to tell them about nothing.

Many of you who read this will laugh. But one day - one glorious day - this dream will be a reality.

Amen. Let us pray. whisper words to nobody in particular.

* not

Back to Brewing

Wednesday, July 12th, 2006

I’m going to start home-brewing, again. I have been fortunate enough to run into a few great drafts of fresh, locally-brewed beer (not Coors) and was reminded how otherworldly-good fresh beer can be, especially when it is a beer that isn’t made for general public consumption. New Belgium has an “Abbey Grand Cru” on tap in their tasting room in Fort Collins that’s unbelievable. And so is Oskar Blue’s “Old Chub”.

It’s been almost two years since I last cooked up a batch, and I’m having to re-read my books to remember how it’s done. There’s so many things to consider that I have to remind myself that I didn’t worry about most of that when I was brewing before, and yet still always produced great beers. I’ll probably blog about the process and post some pictures, when I get closer.

Self-Service Checkout Machine

Thursday, June 29th, 2006

Customer Disservice Playhouse Presents:

“The Self-Service Checkout”

SCENE

The curtain opens to reveal a shopper standing in front of a self-service checkout machine at the King Way Supermarket.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Please scan King Way Discount Card, or scan first item.”

SHOPPER: Scans card.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Welcome, dearly valued customer. Please scan your first item.”

SHOPPER: Picks up first item and scans it.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Thank you. Please place item in bag and scan next item or press payment key.”

SHOPPER: Places item in bag. Reaches for next item.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Object detected in bagging area. Please remove object before scanning next item.”

SHOPPER: Picks up item.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Purchased item removed from bag. Replace purchased item before proceeding!!”

SHOPPER: Puts item back in bag.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Object detected in bagging area. Please remove object before scanning next item.”

SHOPPER: “What the hell?” Hits screen.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Object detected in bagging area. Please remove object before scanning next item.”

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Object detected in bagging area. Please remove object before scanning next item.”

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Object detected in bagging area. Please remove object before scanning next item.”

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Object detected in bagging area. Please remove object before scanning next item.”

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Object detected in bagging area. Please remove object before scanning next item.”

SHOPPER: (To cashier) “Uh, excuse me? This machine is having a problem. It’s telling me that …”

CASHIER: “One moment please.” Taps some keys. “Okay. Scan your item again.”

SHOPPER: Scans item

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Please place item in bag…. Pussy.”

SHOPPER: “HEY!!”

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Please scan next item or press payment key.”

SHOPPER: Scans next item

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Please place item in bag and scan next item or press payment key.”

SHOPPER: Places item in the bag.

CASHIER: Steps away for smoke break.

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “You’re mine now, bee-atch.”

SHOPPER: “Shit.”

CHECKOUT MACHINE: “Please wait for cashier assistance.”

THE END

Funny: College-Themed Porn vs. Reality

Tuesday, June 13th, 2006

Continuing my current pattern of borrowing other people’s funny material, I direct you now to a post at jakechristie.blogspot.com. Read it and laugh, both at the post itself and the out-of-control comment war which follows.

(Unless, of course, you don’t think it’s appropriate to laugh about porn. In that case, I applaud you - you’ve obviously never seen any.)