Tag Archives: expectations

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Anyone who is surprised that cocaine killed Whitney Houston. Instead of banner headlines on the news sites, maybe “Well, duh” buried on page 10 next to the ad for weekend specials at Donny’s Pancake House and Truck Stop would be slightly more appropriate.

2. People driving on a weekday afternoon like they don’t have a place in the world to be. I get that not everyone flies out the door at the end of the day at a dead sprint like I do, but still I’d think if you’re on the road during what approximates rush hour in northeastern Maryland you’d have some place you were trying to go. Apparently, though, there are a sizable contingent of people who are just out to have a look the scenery. In a Tharp administration, these people will be subject to targeting and neutralization by armed Predator drones circling high above major commuter routes. Sure, this might cause some additional delays, but at least those slow downs would have a legitimate reason for happening.

3. People who show up to things unprepared. I can’t throw down with the best slackers around when I set my mind to it, but one thing I never do is show up to a meeting or other activity without having a reasonable command of the subject matter. It doesn’t take that much effort to do your homework ahead of time. There’s a special place in hell reserved for people who wander in and waste two or three hours of your life because they don’t have a clue what’s going on around them.

4. It takes Friday entirely too long to show up every week. I think That one is pretty much self explanatory. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to start my three-day weekend. And in case you’re wondering, no, that last part does not annoy Jeff.

Stream of consciousness…

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As much as I’d like to say I’ve been using the last five days to churn out my magnum opus, the real story is that I’ve mostly just been to lazy and disinterested to write much. Those are two attitudes that rarely lead to interesting posts. In fact I’m probably as bored writing this as you are reading it. Sure, there’s plenty enough going on. The Occupy people are mostly getting what they deserve. Europe is poised on the brink of catastrophe (when aren’t they). The Middle East is a tinderbox (as usual). The federal government could shut down later this week because Congress hasn’t gotten around to approving a budget and the Supercommittee on deficit reduction can’t seem to find their collective ass with their shriveled, tired, old hands and a flashlight. So basically the world is a hair’s breath away from spinning off into any number of possible nightmare scenarios. As much as I should be paying attention, I can’t seem to muster so much as a healthy give a damn. At this point I’ll consider it a victory if we just manage to keep the lights on and food on the table. How’s that for lowered expectations?

None of that really explains why I haven’t been writing. As far as any explanation is really possible, it’s mostly because I’ve momentarily run out of witty and sarcastic things to say. I’ve pretty much taken a stand on all the issues I feel strongly enough about to bother mentioning. Although it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, I’d really rather avoid beating the same tired horses over and over. When something interesting enough to catch my attention passes by, you can believe I’ll be back in spades telling you why it sucks. Since in all likelihood that will happen tomorrow or the next day, this entire post has served only as a placeholder until I can think of something more interesting to discuss.

Data call…

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When I ask for some information and mention that it’s for the boss, the appropriate response is not to then get up, walk down the hall, get water for your plants, talk to your best girl friend on the phone for 20 minutes, eat a granola bar and then get around to sending me the info an hour later. Look, I know I’m new in town, but I didn’t get here on the turnip truck. Mkay? Thanks.

I seriously wonder sometimes if it’s my standards that are unrealistically high or if the rest of the world really is just that stupid, ignorant, or just gold fashioned oblivious to everything going on around them.

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

Rolling boil…

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I got an email on Monday night from the property manager (after talking to the actual homeowner) stating emphatically that he would be in on Wednesday (that would be today) to address the laundry list of things that were broken in the house and/or to haul away junk left by the previous tenant. Being 7:30 here in the east coast, I think it’s now officially safe to say that he isn’t coming today. What has been a low simmer most of the week is now a rolling boil. That small bit of sympathy I had yesterday? Yeah, that’s pretty well gone. The good will of being new to the neighborhood and not wanting the first thing I do to be make waves is worn off completely. Now I pretty much want to be a pain in the ass until everything is resolved to my satisfaction. I wonder how many phone calls a day I get before it’s technically harassment?

Send me the electrons…

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I’m always happy to consult with a colleague whenever they have an issue or need to talk through a new idea. Really, I think of myself more as a facilitator than as a “do-er.” That is to say I specialize in getting the person needing the answer and the person who has the answer together so they work together to find the mutually acceptable solution. In practice, that means I need to know where content lives more than I need to know actual content. Knowing how and who to ask for things is every bit as important as being able to do the actual work involved. The two live in symbiosis – knowledge and action.

The real problem starts when you run into someone who neither has the knowledge or the ability to take action. Take the example of Mr. X for instance. At least twice a day Mr. X comes to my little section of cubicle hell and asks me to proofread and email he wants to send – usually a message asking for something or verifying some type of information. These emails are all well and good – I mean the rapid transmission of information is one of the reasons email is a great form of communication – but it’s not really an “email” when the “draft” you send me to look at is scratched out on the back of an old memo.

Seriously. I don’t know how exactly many times I can tell someone to just “send me the electrons” before it sinks in that I’m not going to spend time making “pen and ink” changes. Of course the need for these changes could be eliminated if we could all just take responsibility for knowing our own jobs and being able to formulate a simple request for information from someone working in a different office. As it turns out, that’s more than I can reasonably expect.

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

Mr. Freeze…

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It snowed in West Tennessee today, but that’s not exactly the freeze that is troubling me at the moment. It seems that news of my imminent departure for Pennsylvania was broken prematurely. Though not quite ready to retract the story, I’m moving it from the “cautiously optimistic” column to the “possible” category. It seems that in the interests of driving down operating expenses, Uncle has imposed a 30-day hiring freeze for civilian positions with the Department of the Army. Tacking that 30 days onto the 20 I had already waited to get the official offer and I can’t in good conscience rely on seeing a positive outcome. I suspect the human resources policy geniuses deep in the bowels of the Pentagon are using this 30-day hiring holiday to devise even more diabolical procedures that will make hiring and transfers even more complicated, cumbersome, and time consuming than they already are. None of this bodes well for a speedy exodus from the current unpleasantness. My expectations of enjoying springtime in Pennsylvania are fading rapidly.

This is why I’m generally happier when I’m in full pessimist mode – disappointments there don’t come as a surprise. They’re just the normal state of affairs and when things did go right, it’s an occasional pleasant surprise. I don’t know that I could ever be a real optimist. I couldn’t tolerate being so regularly disappointed when things go to hell in a handcart. At this point I’m driving on purely because I trust absolutely in my own abilities and the simple fact another six months of uncertainty is better than the absolute certainty of being stuck where I am. Just call me Mr. Freeze.

By request…

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Someone asked yesterday if it wasn’t about time I make some topical remarks on Tuesday’s elections. I’d love to present you with facts and arguments, but the truth is that I’ve mostly tuned out. I’m mostly disgusted by both parties and I’d rather have myself thrown into Boston Harbor than line up with the tea partiers. There doesn’t seem to be a party or any organized group out there that addresses my apparently unique beliefs of fiscal conservatism, moderate social policy, and strong defense. Until we get past the whole “this one’s a socialist” and “that one’s a fascist” mentality, I’ve got little use for most political discussion. I’ve said it before, but the world is too complex a place to simplify it into a few soundbites and call it public discourse. I’m not optimistic that our body politic will ever get back to a point where we can collectively overcome out national ADD and actually have that reasonable conversation. Until we do, my plan is to do my research, read as much as possible about the issues, pull the lever for the candidates that makes me least nauseous, and hope I can keep the bile down.

Steam…

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It’s easy to work up a rant when you’ve already got a full head of steam behind you. The real challenge is doing it when the boilers are cold. Right now, though, I’m not about the challenge. It’s feeling more like a stream of consciousness kind of evening. Actually, tonight is feeling more like a trickle than a stream. Well, that’s not exactly true, either. There’s plenty to say; plenty of things that need to be said in the clear. Not that I expect that would change anything other than adding fuel to the fire. I don’t have quite enough ego these days to think that I can make that much of a difference – That got smacked out of me last fall. Maybe the best thing now is to focus on getting my eight-and-out every day, make self-preservation and sanity-preservation a priority, and stop trying to draw fire. I’m not sure I even remember how to do that.

Analog hell…

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If I had to take a guess, I’d say that they average people who work in the same gilded cage that I do have an average age of somewhere north of 50. That puts the majority of them squarely in the analog world… You know, the one where people wear watches, know how to use typewriters, and complain about people to send text messages. The little corner of this world that where I pretend to have influence has an average age hovering somewhere around 33 or 34 years and… and this is where worlds inevitably collide – the digital versus the analog.

I bring this up because we’re in the midst of ordering a number of things that only make sense if you think in analog… Like wall clocks with our organizational logo on them. That’s nice enough and all, but in looking around just inside the four walls of my cube, I count at least five things that tell me the time that has been synchronized with the network to be reasonably close to the “official” U.S. time as reported from National Institute of Standards and Technology. I’m not exactly sure why we need something that’s going to give a less accurate, battery-powered approximation of the time hanging across the room on the wall, but we’re going to have ‘em, by God. It’s not a big deal, just a nod to doing things the old fashioned way for a less than apparent reason.

That pretty much sets the tone for the next “must have” item in the order… ergonomic, screen printed, mouse pads for everyone! The logic here, of course, is that a branded mouse pad is just the kind of item that will help build unit cohesion and boost morale. Really? A mouse pad? That’ll be a great way to make sure out trackballs don’t… oh, wait… No one has trackballs any more. We have optical mice that bounce a friggin’ laser off your desk… or your leg… or the wall… or your dog’s back in a pinch. Unless your desk is made out of lexan or you have one of those really cool sheet glass covers on your faux-hardwood credenza, it’s pretty much something that’ll be going in a drawer and never seeing the light of day again.

Please, for the love of God, the saints, and all things good and holy, people… stop thinking in analog. The digital camera isn’t going to steal your soul and your laptop, even your crust old Dell 620s, can be used for more than writing email and Word documents. And another thing, stop asking for tethering on your Blackberries and aircards for your laptops. It’s the same interwebs your tying into. We’re not talking about Mission-to-Mars technology here, folks… all I’m asking is that you figure out how to use basic office equipment. Sigh.

I wonder…

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Sometimes I just have to stop and wonder why I’m putting as much emphasis as I do on certain things. Sure, I mean there’s the pride of a job well done and all, but I’m forced to wonder exactly what part of the universe would come crashing down on my head if I gave it a rest for a while.

For all my protestations of not giving a &?$@, I tend to put a premium on getting things done right. Right now I would really love to put that away for just a while and take things as they come without feeling the overwhelming desire to fix them in some way. The rest of the world seems to get along ok with halfassing everything. Why shouldn’t I get the same opportunity? What’s the worst that could happen if I really did find a way to turn that switch off? I mean, hell, they can’t shoot me and no one has ever been drawn and quartered for being a slacker.

It’s a happy fantasy, but I know that’s not going to happen. It’s not the way I’m wired. And as much as I’d like to toss in the towel and say the hell with everything I’m not sure I’d even know how to do that and make it stick. So instead of doing what I want to do and making a big bloody stink, I’ll drift off to sleep, get up with the 4:30 alarm, and do it all over again tomorrow. I’ll screw on my best British stiff upper lip and keep it that way until I retire, hit that PowerBall jackpot, or someone finally drives my blood pressure into stroke territory.