Written on 9:49 PM by ./dave
I ran across an idea on wikipedia that has been intriguing me, called the Peter Principal. From Wikipedia:
It holds that in a hierarchy, members are promoted so long as they work competently. Sooner or later they are promoted to a position at which they are no longer competent (their "level of incompetence"), and there they remain. Peter's Corollary states that "in time, every post tends to be occupied by an employee who is incompetent to carry out his duties" and adds that "work is accomplished by those employees who have not yet reached their level of incompetence".
Genius, my friends. Genius.
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Written on 7:50 PM by ./dave
I'm transitioning at work, meaning that I am moving out of the job I have now and into some other job in the future, which is kind of undefined at the moment. Nothing to worry about, this is all self chosen.
I was in a meeting with the guy who's taking my place. We work in one of those ginormous companies that has so many floors and conference rooms that each one has a name. We were in conference room "Plaza A".
As the new guy was making a very well thought out and reasonable point my gaze strayed underneath the conference room table. Written all over the power strip there was "Conference Room 3A! DO NOT REMOVE!"
I started laughing, completely uncontrollably, thinking about the one person from the facilities department who keeps having to replace the power outlets in 3A and the other person in facilities who just doesn't fucking care.
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Written on 8:55 PM by ./dave
There is a dude at my work who looks *exactly*... and I mean this... *precisely* like the dude from Office Space with the red Swingline stapler, Milton Waddams. Well, okay, he doesn't look exactly like him, but the effect of the dude is very much the same. Like the way GW looks like a monkey. In that kind of way.
The funny thing is that I saw him in the hallway a few weeks ago and I realized that he had dyed his hair black. I am dying to corner him and talk this through. I would say, "Okay, you've got the right idea. Changes need to be made and I'm glad that you're taking some action. We just need to refine your approach now. First off, the pants that are three inches above your shoes when you're standing - we need to revisit that strategy. The short sleeve button up shirt, just like it says on the Simpsons, that's only for Detective Sipowicz. And he wasn't cool.
"There is no need for you to carry a briefcase around. We keep our information on computers now. Unless it's full of cash and handcuffed to your wrist, it needs to go. Next, we need to think about getting you a tan. You look like a tapeworm. The sun is your friend.
"And you see, it's after all this has been accomplished that we might try getting fancy with a new haircut or some cool kicks. That's for after the race. Right now we're at the starting line."
Or maybe I'll just drop a DVD copy of Beauty and the Geek on his desk and see if that helps.
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Written on 8:46 PM by ./dave
I am one of those people who drinks decaf coffee. For all of you pricks out there thinking "what's the point of that?" all I can tell you is that I was once like you. About eight months ago, though, I decided that my _enormous_ caffeine consumption might be linked to the migraines I was constantly getting. I'm the type of guy that when I like doing something I do it a lot, and I really liked drinking coffee. I would drink up to 5 large mugs of coffee a day.
I was right about the migraines. When I quit caffeine I had a headache for about a week and a half straight. The frequency of my migraines has decreased sharply since then, though.
When I first mad the switch I didn't drink coffee at all, sticking with decaf green tea in the mornings. But I don't really like tea. Every once and awhile I try to tell myself that I do, but the truth is that I don't. Tea is gross. Needing some sort of morning ritual that was more spiritually fulfilling than a glass of water I went ahead and did what was once unthinkable. I switched to decaf.
I know, decaf has a small amount of caffeine in it. Shut up, Mr. Factoid.
On the floor I work on there's one other decaf drinker, a very cold and unfriendly woman who's probably about fifteen years older than I am. This woman is very paranoid when it comes to the coffee.
I make the decaf coffee pot probably around half of the time. On the days when I do make the coffee the woman can be counted on to approach my desk in order to confirm with me that I was the maker of the coffee. She usually checks that I know the difference between the decaf coffee packets, which are orange, and the regular coffee packets, which are brown. Each time I confirm with her that yes, I do know the difference. The decaf trust we have built remains unbroken.
I usually feel pretty good after these interactions, because she and I are a team. And our team doesn't do stuff like make each other drink caffeinated coffee. In fact, that's the only rule that our team has.
Earlier this week I was thinking about this good feeling I always get from these interactions as I filled my morning coffee cup and realized that I felt good for basically knowing what a three-year-old knows; the difference between orange and brown. I think it's the fact that the woman always seems impressed that makes me feel so good. Even a small accomplishment can reap great rewards if celebrated properly.
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Written on 8:22 PM by ./dave
It's always exciting to write the first post of a new blog. Oh, the possibilities, the opportunities, the white space looking to be filled.
I decided to create this blog because I realized that *so* many of the things I would like to write about have to do with my job. And like many of you, I don't really want the people at my work seeing the things I have to say about them or the wacky hijinks they get into. That would be a career limiting move.
So let this be the space in which I can vent and share the true inner thoughts that I carry around all day and will eventually give me a cardial infarction. Hopefully you can get something out of this to, dear reader, because more likely than not you're grist in the mill yourself.
Come with me on this trip, won't you?
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