Tag Archives: work

Welcome to Thunderdome…

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We had a meeting a few days ago about what each of us would be doing in the event a major natural disaster hit while we were at the office. I think it’s sort of cute that the powers that be are planning on people staying at their desks for the first hour of a catastrophic event. Sure it would be nice to think that everyone was an automaton who would run the checklists, rationally assess the situation, and make good decisions based on available facts… but lets face it, you’re flying against the strong wind of human nature. In those first minutes, assuming the building hasn’t fallen on our heads, you’re going to see a mass exodus as people’s flight instinct kicks in. During times of real crisis, we’re hard wired to think to hearth and home, not the office and redundant backup. I wouldn’t want to be the brave and crazy soul who tried standing in the doorway blocking the flood tide of people on their way out. Getting trampled isn’t really my style.

I suppose it’s a good enough plan if you aren’t bothered by considerations such as reality and basic human nature. The best I can hope for in these meetings is that I’m sitting far enough back in the room that most people won’t see me rolling my eyes and sketching out my own plan to escape, evade, and recover from whatever big nasty event ultimately befalls us.

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

Pax…

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You can tell in processing today went well because I’m not griping and complaining about it. The day was planned in advance. Things happened on time. And I didn’t leave the room feeling like that senior leaders were pumping sunshine directly into my fourth point of contact. It was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. Plus, I have a window. I’ve never had one of those before so I’m disturbingly excited about being able to see if the sun is shining or if it’s pouring rain before actually walking out of the building. I’ve said it before, but it warrants repeating; Best. Demotion. Ever.

Demoted…

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At midnight tonight I’ll officially be reduced in grade and my supervisory authority will cease to be. I’ll revert to being a simple action officer – working projects and meeting deadlines. The only timesheet and evaluation I’ll have to worry about are my own. The only training I need to think about is mine. I’ll be back in the organizational sweet spot of being a technical expert. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to feel like part of the solution instead of part of the problem… and make a few extra dollars for my troubles.

All things considered… Best. Demotion. Ever.

Boxing day…

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No, it’s not December 26th, but it’s officially the day I’ve decided to go all in with the assumption that my time in Memphis is drawing to an end and that it is going to do so with great rapidity in the next couple of weeks. The fact is the more I can do now, before the crush of having an officially designated D-day, the better I’ll feel. There will be enough to do to keep two or three people gainfully employed once the actual paperwork hits my desk. As it stands now, the kitchen is the only room on the house that doesn’t have boxes stacked halfway to the ceiling. The obvious question is where all this stuff came from, as I certainly didn’t bring it all here with me (I ran out of those boxes very early in the process). Regardless, it’s all finding its way into temporary quarters safely tucked away surrounded by newsprint and bubble wrap. It helps that I’ve been slowly sneaking things into boxes since January, but now it’s getting real because we’re getting into the items that I’m actually missing now that they’re gone. The electronics are still all up and running. The kitchen is still fully functional. But in almost every other respect, this place is 75-80% ready for check out time.

When the word comes down from on high, who’s going to be ready? That’s right. This guy.  it won’t take long to pack out the clothes and few key odds and ends that I’ll be carrying myself. I moved here with a Mustang packed to the roof and I suppose I’ll leave in a pickup truck looking a bit like the Clampetts, but the important thing is I’ll be leaving… assuming (as always) that the paperwork gets done. I don’t know that I’ll ever get use to knowing, but not knowing. It’s damnably frustrating to spend so much time working from hints and allegations, but in the absence of clear guidance, I’ve elected to create my own based on my read of the situation and reports from well placed sources.

Boy will I be pissed if this thing falls apart now.

We’ve got a heartbeat…

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I hear it in the hushed conversation over cubicle walls. I see the grins and sly thumbs up offered by our own HR staffers. Somewhere just beyond my field of view, the wheels of the great green machine are in motion. We’ve got a heartbeat. It’s faint, but there. After the torturous road this process has taken just to get to the “tentative” stage, I don’t dare to think of it as a done deal. The probability of success is definitely increasing, but that’s a long way from a signed set of orders and a new desk. Nevertheless, I’m raising the confidence meter from cautiously optimistic to hopeful.

Experience has taught me and millions of others that the Army is a serious player in the game of hurry up and wait. I’ve got the waiting bit down to a science. It seems that we’re about to get a lesson in extreme hurry up. I’m confident that in this case, hurry up is far preferable.

Meatballs…

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Yes, I heard you the first six times you said you brought meatballs. In fairness, it’s 7:45 AM so you’ll have to excuse us if we’re not all hepped up about your culinary contribution to the day. And really, any food prepared by co-workers is suspect. I know I’d certainly lace whatever I brought in.

Reminding me that there are “still a few left” after lunch isn’t going to make me run off and try them. I’m sure you’re proud of your skills, and I appreciate your determination, but eating random food cooked by people under God knows what conditions, isn’t high on my list of things to do. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t rush off to help myself. I’ve watched too many episodes of hoarders to be trusting when it comes to food prep at the homes of those who are effectively strangers.

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

Early riser…

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I’ve had your sorry ass locked out of the office every morning for three weeks, told you five times that shift starts and 6:30, and still you’re already here when I pull in to the parking lot at 6:15. The hood of your car is cool so I know you’ve been here for a while.

The real question, of course, is why? You’re going to have to take my word for it that wanting to eat breakfast at your desk isn’t a good enough reason for me to want to get sued later because you worked 30 minutes a day longer than you were supposed to and didn’t get paid for it. So seriously, shift starts at 6:30. I’ll unlock at 6:25. If you want to keep coming in and standing in the hall for 30 minutes like a dipshit, that’s all on you.

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

#3…

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And so we’re moving along tomorrow to interview #3, which is a good thing. Of course it’s also an Army job, which means it’s probably subject to the hiring freeze just like the others. That’s the part that’s less than good. In keeping with my casting of the wide net, I can only speculate that the more interviews I have between the now and when our dear friends lift the freeze, the better the opportunity that one or more of them will come in with an actual offer in the fabled land beyond the human resource permafrost. If not, getting the occasional interview gives me the illusion of actually making progress. In the absence of actual progress, I’m good with the illusion… for now.

P.S. Selecting officials, if you’re poking around the internet doing an informal review of names on your referral lists, please take note of the single minded determination I’m showing at achieving this objective. It’s this kind of fortitude and commitment to mission that I can bring to your office and put to work for you.

Draft…

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In my line of work, the written word is pretty much our stock-in-trade. Now there are always going to be good writers and bad writers, but all I really expect from anyone is the ability to be an average writer. It’s technical documentation and policy, I don’t need James Michener or Stephen King here. 100 times out of 100, what I’m looking for is a solid draft of whatever document I asked requested. What I don’t need is someone asking every 30 seconds if this or that sentence structure was better or if “and” was preferable to “or”. You’re asking these things without giving me context… and that makes the questions seem random and chaotic rather than just annoying.

I’m trying to go easy because I fully understand that it takes a bit of time to really get how things are supposed to flow. That’s fine. But when I ask for a draft, that’s really all I need. I’ll make the editorial decisions and rearrange sentence structure on the fly. That’s why they pay me the not-as-big-bucks as I’d make in the private sector.

 

Editorial Note: This is the first in a series of previously unpublished blog’s appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Four…

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Apparently, in the absence of having planned anything constructive, four days off is too much for me to handle all at one time. Admittedly, the first two were enforced by an uncooperative stomach, so there wasn’t much chance of getting anything accomplished there other than the occasional load of laundry and some poking around on the interwebs. Yesterday got the week’s “running” accomplished – groceries, random crap from Lowe’s, ridiculous organic dog food, and the like. The only thing that really hasn’t gotten done is bathroom cleaning… and I don’t think even my OCD-addled mind is pressed enough to take that on to just have something to do. If there’s one household task I simply detest, that would be the one. Sitting here grousing about it is obviously more productive.

My point though, in this somewhat rambling post, is that I really have nothing to do today (other than the whole cleaning bit that’s not going to happen). This means that I’m basically going to end up knocking around the house trying to come up with something that needs done… and then talking myself out of it because it’s Sunday and no one in their right mind starts a project on Sunday. I’m not quite saying that I’m ready to get back to work, but one thing I can always count on there, is that it’s rarely going to be boring… ridiculous, frustrating, and myopic, sure – but rarely boring.