Arrrrrrmy training, sir…

One of the great old saws about the Army is that it trains as it fights. That is to say that in theory, the Army likes it’s training to approximate real world environments. That helps explain why we dump million of dollars into out of the way places like Ft. Polk, Louisiana and Ft. Irwin, California. They’re some of the last places in the country where large groups of men and equipment can careen across the wilderness unhampered by complaints by decent taxpaying citizens.

I’m not sure this training ethos holds true for Uncle’s vast army of civilian employees. I’ve spent the better part of today sitting in an auditorium with 200-odd colleagues watching as a contractor navigated around the interweb teaching us how to do file management, set permissions, and covering the importance of information sharing and security. The next two days promise more of the same. This probably doesn’t qualify as training as we fight. Then again, looking around at the blank stares and acres of trees sacrificed to make PowerPoint printouts, maybe it is.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date

Amish…

This new job has a lot going for it, not the least of which is putting me 800-odd miles away from a certain batshit crazy senior leader. That’s not to say that there aren’t a few idiosyncrasies around here that I could do without. Until I’m self employed in a company of one, I suspect those are things I’ll just have to resolve to live with though. On balance, it’s been more than a fair trade.

There are a few things, however, that should be called out specifically. The first is that there isn’t a television anywhere in the building. That’s not inherently a bad thing, but I hadn’t realized how much I can come to rely on the quiet ranting of Fox News to help me tune out the random chatter that comes with life in a cube. The second, and perhaps more distressing is the distinct lack of cell service in the building. I’m fortunate to be by a window where I have just enough signal strength to punch out a text message or a tweet. Forget actually receiving a phone call or launching an app, though. This unhappy condition has the unfortunate side effect of leaving me largely at the mercy of whatever “fair use” I can manage with my desktop PC. Since that means I’m using Big Brother’s hardware, it feels like I might as well be Amish eight hours a day.

Listening in…

One of the many downsides of life in the cube farm is that it’s impossible not to listen in on conversations at least occasionally. As hard as you try to avoid it, you’re going to pick up way more than you have any interest in knowing about the people you’re sitting in close proximity to for eight hours a day. You’ll come to know everything from health and personal life to bathroom habits and carryout preferences (my personal favorite is when they’re trying to have a quiet argument with their spouse over the phone). Being a bit of a tech head, I always seem to notice when someone brings up the topic.

This morning, I overheard someone ranting quietly about people sending him text messages, as in “I’m 47 years old. People got no business sending me text messages. If they want to talk to me, they need to pick up the phone.” Why hello there 1954, it’s nice to meet you. This kind of attitude is troubling in someone who has access to every modern communication technology, up to and including A/V via satellite. If he’s this resistant to something as basic as a text message, what are the chances he’s going to be open to anything that really changes the way he gets his job done?

This post has served as nothing more than a reminder that flexibility is important in life. It’s no less important as a professional. If text messaging is enough to stress this guy out, I hope I’m not around when a real stressor comes along. I’m pretty sure scrubbing blood out of upholstery is outside the scope of my job description.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date

Slamming door…

Yes, I know I work in a different office than you do, but you need to get it through your thick skull that I’m not the enemy here and I’m not asking for information because I want to start a game of gottcha. The bottom line is I need this information to do my job. If what I’m going to discover in that data is somehow professionally embarrassing to you, while I feel bad about that, it’s not going to stop me from getting the information I need…

But go ahead and feel free to slam the door in my face, because now I get to go to my boss, who’s going to go to his boss, who’s going to walk across the hall to see your boss and explain that you are going to release the files I’m asking for. The only thing different is that instead of me having three days to do the analysis, I’m going to do it in one… and spend the other two stage-managing the inter-office war that you’ve decided to start.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Official IM…

We have an officially sanctioned Yahoo IM wannabe instant messaging system at work. That we could just as easily use the real thing for non-sensitive, unclassified communication isn’t really the issue. Or maybe it’s just beside the point. It’s resisting the natural temptation to plaster it with field of lmao, wtf, and stfu that gives me the most trouble. Even sitting here with a tie (something I swore I wasn’t going to do again, btw) doesn’t quite give me a subconscious nudge I need to remember that I’m not txting with someone or fiddling around on Google chat, but that I’m actually supposed to be some kind of professional communication tool. So yeah, I guess you could say I have a level of discomfort with the official IM.

As much as I love my tech, I’m not sure I get the real value added here. Was someone not getting back to you fast enough with email or do you just think the flashing blue box in the task bar is harder to ignore than the unopened envelope in Outlook? I’m sure there was a great reason that you needed this capability, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it was. In the meantime, I’ll be busy copyediting every message I send trying to make sure it doesn’t read like it was written by a 13 year old girl.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Know how…

Apparently it’s important to the war effort that I learn how to build a website. Well, “build” might be a bit of a stretch. What I’m “learning” to do is slid pre-scripted widgets around on a pre-approved layout with complete freedom to select border colors and add italics where appropriate. So you can all disabuse yourselves of the notion of me slaving feverishly to churn out fully developed Flash or HTML. What I’m doing is the paint-by-numbers version of website construction. Paint-by-number is fine and certainly has a place, but alot of headaches could have been avoided if someone would have asked me first if I had any experience doing that kind of work. I’m fairly sure putzing around with SharePoint for the last four years, managing a couple of blogs, knowing how to log into Facebook, and being willing to play around with tech until I figure out how to make it work would have probably been sufficient training. Of course none of that comes with a certificate, so it represents unofficial know how. And we certainly wouldn’t want to turn unofficial know how loose on an official network. No good could come from that. Besides, by this time tomorrow I’ll have a fancy new certificate. So there.

Under Construction…

We are quite literally “under” construction. The office suite the floor above us is, as far as I can tell, undergoing some type of renovation that requires the repeated dropping of bowling balls onto the bare concrete slab. This activity has the unpleasant side effect of making it sound like the entire second floor could become the first floor at any moment. It’s not bad, as long as you don’t find loud, hollow thumping and continual rending of metal distracting or annoying in any way. Other than that, it’s practically unnoticeable.

I’m probably an idealist, but I’ve always thought this kind of work would be best done outside of “core business hours.” You know, when the vast majority of employees are not making their limited effort at being productive for the day. It’s sort of the same way I look at day-time janitorial service. Sure, having my cube vacuumed is nice and all, but it’s awfully distracting when I’m sitting in it making a phone call or actually trying to get something done. In television shows, the cleaning crews always come at night. Maybe that happens in the executive suite, but for the drones, everyone seems bent on showing up at the most inopportune time.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Apparently they’re everywhere…

Do you ever wonder if people really spend any time thinking about what they say before words come tumbling out of their mouths? I’ve known the woman sitting next to me for a grand total of 20-odd days and have already been treated to the complete and unabridged version of her medical history… and her father’s… and her mother’s… and at least one sister. Not only do I not want to hear about your colonoscopy, or your sister’s varicose veins, or your father’s chronic halitosis, but I want you to not want to tell me those things. As much as I appreciate you wanting me to feel like part of the group, there’s a level of sharing with coworkers that I’m just not going to go beyond – and you shouldn’t either. Being realistic, you’ve told me details about your family that I wouldn’t be comfortable telling people I’ve known for 20 years, let alone 20 days.

If someone could stop by and install a cone of silence on my cubicle, that would be perfect. I think it would save us all from a lot of trouble in the long run, because all that’s really going to happen is you’re going to keep telling me things that I don’t want to hear and then I’m going to be forced to post those things on the internet. And that doesn’t seem fair to either of us, really.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Telework…

In theory, telework is a brilliant idea. Disaggregating your workforce to hundreds of different locations means your not necessarily subject to a single point of failure that could shut down operations. Power out at the home office? No problem. Half the workforce can log in from home, Starbucks, Nevis, or really any place with an internet connection. It’s the kind of idea that give planners a warm fuzzy when faced with how to prepare for typhoons, earthquakes, or terrorists bent on leveling your building. It’s one of those things that’s probably more brilliant in concept than in reality. On the whole, I tend to think most people generally want to do the right thing most of the time. But how many of your average employees are going to be able to resist the temptations that face them when they’re working from home or some other location – throw in a quick load of laundry, change the baby’s diaper, or making just a quick trip to the supermarket. I mean after all, no one will know you’re gone and you’ll be right back anyway. No harm no foul, right?

As an employee, I love the idea of telework if for no other reason than the very idea that being tethered to a desk eight hours a day equals a productive work week. The technology available has moved us beyond the need for dedicated office space for a great many kinds of work. Human nature being what it is, though, I suspect most people might just be more productive if they have someone looking over their shoulder from time to time… but personally, I’d rather sit at home in my fuzzy slippers and get eight hours of work done in three and call the rest of the day “research.”

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Did you hear that?

I really appreciated your call while I was sitting down to dinner. Yes I actually knew the tornado sirens were going off. I heard them too. It’s a county-wide alert system and we all live in the same county. Plus, you know, that storm system stretched most of the way from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada, so we sort of saw it coming. Since I’m your supervisor and not your mother, it really isn’t necessary for me to know that you and junior are safely tucked in your bathtub under your mattress.

Chalk that up to one of the million and a half things I’m not going to miss about being a supervisor.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.