Tag Archives: work

Cubicle stalker…

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I came back from lunch to find one of the more emotionally needy members of the team standing in my cube. You know the ones; they need special reassurance that they’re doing the things right… every time they do anything… regardless of how basic the task. Yeah. That guy. I’m sure you’ve met him.

According to sources in a position to know, he had been standing there for 15 minutes. Standing in my cube, while I was at lunch, for at least 15 minutes. Just standing there. And waiting. Standing there waiting to tell me that he had uploaded some documents to our network drive.

In the future, it would be completely appropriate under these circumstances to send me an email. Leave me a note. A voicemail I’ll even get eventually. Though really, you can feel free to upload files to the network to your heart’s content without my direct supervision. That’s probably another issue altogether, really.

I can’t fathom why, in the name of all things good and holy, it might have seemed like a good idea to spend 15 minutes standing in my cube waiting for me to come back from lunch. Were you expecting a treat of some sort? Up until today, that was the only 55 square feet of real estate in the entire building where I feel even a modicum of sanity. You’ve taken that from me now. The sanctity of my cube has been violated.

I can’t tell you how much I don’t need a cubicle stalker in my life.

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.

Taking the high road…

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I’m going to make the adult decision and not chase after glittery temptation for once. Just this once and just to see how that works out. What would 21 year old me think? He’d call me a derivation of “feline” and shake his head in disgust before walking up the hill for beer by the quart at Hi-Way Pizza. That’s what he’d do. Twenty five year old me would probably already be at the Green Door or Brass Rail passing the latest County gossip and talking shit. But while they’re doing that, 32 year old me will be getting what passes lately for a good nights sleep and not be nursing a hangover during that early morning meeting with the bosses.

Lame.

All plans made herein are non-refundable and subject to change without notice.

Perspective…

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There’s nothing like a retirement party to put a career in perspective. We all like to think of our working lives as being productive and valuable and perhaps that maybe after 30 years of work, we’ve left our mark. Most of us, of course, would be wrong in thinking that. Sure, there are exceptions – Hyman Rickover is the father of the nuclear submarine force; Henry Bessemer made steel economical; Watson and Crick identified the double helix structure of DNA – but for the average schmo sitting in a cubicle there aren’t going to be entries in even the most obscure history book – unless you create your own entry in Wikipedia.

I attended a retirement luncheon – a function that no one ever really wants to go to, but that guarantees a long lunch without anyone getting on your case – and had the dismaying realization that even the people working next to you don’t really have a clue what you do on a day to day basis. The highlight of the “ceremonial” portion of the event was the soon-to-be-departed employee’s supervisor saying a few kind words. One would hope to hear how they made the workplace better, or contributed to the war effort, or saved homeless kittens in their spare time.

What this particular career boiled down to was this: A supervisory musing about how he’d “always remember the great report you wrote about the problems in Peoria.”

Wow. That’s perspective.

For most of us, that’s how a career is going to end. Think on that next time you’re working late on an “important” project or skipping vacation days to make sure a project is finished on time. In 20 or 30 years when your middle of the road colleagues are sitting around a table at a middle of the road restaurant bidding you farewell it’s likely all you’ve done is written a great report about Peoria.

Live your life accordingly.

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.

Brave new world…

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In countless briefings, charts, and memos, my agency uses the standard “traffic light” metric to express whether a particular project was operating within tolerance. Green was good to go. Amber signals that there is a problem. Red, the most dreaded status, indicates that the project has come off the rails. The phrase “apathy is green” began as an offhand remark to a colleague that my level of disinterest had maxed out for the day. As my career progressed, that simple phrase came to identify more and more closely with how I feel every day pulling into the parking lot in the dark hours of the morning. My level apathy is most assuredly green – top of the scale. My cup-o-apathy runneth over, as it were.

I’ve been blogging for a long time now and I noticed that over time the posts came back to the issues I was dealing with at the office. I’d write out a diatribe only to realize that while posting it would be cathartic, I wasn’t quite willing to commit career suicide to get things off my chest. Many of those old posts got deleted before I ever finished writing them, a few of them got saved, and the ones that did get published were so cut down and vague that they bore little resemblance to the facts of the matter. Launching this new blog, removed from personal connections, gives me a fresh opportunity to approach these topics

In the tradition of Office Space and Dilbert, I intend to use this space as a forum to tell tales from the workplace. For those, like me, who dwell day to day in a cubicle, I can only assume that many of the people and situations I intend to describe will sound familiar to you. For the happy few who live beyond the cube farm, perhaps all I can offer is an insight into life as a cog in the great bureaucracy. Like any writer, I welcome your feedback, your criticism, and your participation.

I am a bureaucrat. These are my experiences. Thanks for reading along.

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.

Stats…

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Even though the hiring freeze is still alive and well, I’m resolved to overlook such troubles for the time being and have continued my blitzkrieg approach to job hunting. As of this afternoon here are the stats:

Total Resumes Sent: 162
Total Rejected Outright: 87
Total Referred to Selecting Official – Rejected: 5
Total Referred to Selecting Official – Open: 7
Total Status Pending: 63

Even a blind dog finds a bone now and then, ya’know?

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.

Terms…

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It’s possible that I’m starting to come to terms with living in a state of perpetual uncertainty. Maybe there’s a two week maximum on anxiety of this sort. After taking counsel in a dear friend last night, I’m reminded that getting things done the Army way can take much, much longer than should be reasonably expected. It’s not so much that I don’t care as it is that I’ve seemed to move beyond the point where fretting about it is worth the effort. It’s really an occasion where all there is to be done is lie back and think of England. The alternative is to pick up the phone and start ranting like a lunatic at the guy I’m hoping to work for at some point in the near future. That would probably be the operative definition of a situation other than good at this point. So, until further notice, I wait… and wait… and wait. At some point even the bureaucracy has to grind its way into an actual decision, right?

Purgatory…

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No question about it, I’ve been slacking when it comes to posting. It’s been a bit of a week. I know that I have a formal job offer from a command in Pennsylvania that will remain nameless for now, but at the moment, I’m stuck in a state of suspended animation… somewhere between leaving the old job and arriving at the new one. Since I haven’t gotten the “official” offer yet, there’s really not much to do besides the pre-pre-planning kind of things; looking at the big picture what’s and hows of a cross-continental move. It’s too early yet to even start thinking about specifics like dates or the mechanics behind the move would work. That’s basically the long version of saying I’m effectively in a state of human resource-induced purgatory.

I’ve done this a few times now and know that when the clock starts running, things are going to start happening very quickly. Lots of decisions are going to be made in haste and things won’t slow down for 45-60 days. So yeah, there’s a pretty narrow lane of things I can do now to try getting ready. I’ve basically stopped buying groceries and started burning through whatever I have stocked in the freezer and pantry. Making good progress there. This morning I packed up the guest bedroom and bathroom. Basically everything in those two rooms is ready to be put on a truck. Maybe most important, I’ve started filling a Rubbermaid tub with the wires, cables, and accessories I’ll need to set up a TV and a wireless network whenever I get where I’m going. I figure as long as I have those, I can work out the rest on the other end.

The next step is to strip off, wrap, and pack all the nicknacks in the living room and office. Then there’s the great boxing of the books. That one always takes a while. Once that’s finished, we’re down to the kitchen and bedroom. Those I’ll hold off on until the last minute. Having one room that isn’t piled to the rafters with boxes seems to help preserve at least a touch of sanity. The truth is, I have no idea how long it’s going to take to to get the formal offer in hand and it’s entirely possible that I’m jumping the gun by a factor of weeks here – but the boxes strewn around the house and an email from Pennsylvania are currently the only real, tangible sign that I’m escaping from Memphis and the slow motion train wreck that is the office here. If it sounds like I’ve gone from cautiously optimistic to paranoid, there’s probably a good reason for that. This is the government and until the ink is dry on the paperwork, nearly anything can happen… and I’m terrified that if I breath wrong, the wheels could fall off. Sure, the probability of success is well over 99%, but the 99% is never what keeps you up at night. I’m ready to get this show on the road and every day that does by makes me a little more jumpy, even though I know it’s perfectly normal. Fun stuff, right?

Interview with a Logistician…

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To date, I’ve cast 119 resumes into the great wind that is the Army’s civilian personnel system. When you’re dealing with that kind of volume, it’s impossible to tailor each one to a specific job opening. Your best hope is that if you through enough of them against the wall, maybe, somehow, some of them will start to stick. It seems that I’m at least starting to fall into that category now – where at least a few of those resumes have found their way in front of people who are actually doing the hiring.

Yesterday was the first job I’ve interviewed for since 2002. In the interest of not jinxing myself too badly, I’m won’t get into specifics about what or where, other than to say that I’m cautiously optimistic and seem to have passed through the first round enroute to a follow-on discussion with the potential uberboss. In theory, that should take place sometime before the end of this week. After that, it takes however long it takes for the selection and notification process to work its way through to the end. It’s not generally something that happens with great rapidity.

Assuming for a moment that I actually get an offer, a whole series of questions then immediately come into play – Am I willing to sacrifice grade for more favorable geography and will doing so irreparably damage my career? Can I sustain financing a condo in Maryland, a house in Tennessee, and another place to call home all at the same time? Maybe more troubling is the nagging fear that if I jump at the first offer, I’m closing the door on a more lucrative offer at some point in the future or the even more nagging fear that the next offer could be another six months in coming. It’s the kind of decision that’s easy in theory, but in practice, well, becomes fraught with any number of potential issues.

There’s no call to worry about any of those just yet, though. For now, I’ll be happy that I at least got one opportunity to make my case. What happens next is, mostly, out of my hands – but you can bet I’ll be looking to send out resume number 120 first thing tomorrow morning.

48 Cents…

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As a taxpayer, I’m absolutely appalled at the seemingly out of control spending we’ve seen from this government over the last 18 months. It’s beyond irresponsible and boarders on criminal. On the other hand, as one cog in the two million strong federal civilian workforce, all I can really say about the minuscule savings (yes, $5B is minuscule in terms of the federal budget) realized by freezing federal raises for two years is, WTF? That’s like using a bandaid to treat a sucking chest wound. It’s a structural problem and not one brought about by my picking up an extra 1.4% next year.

Want to fix the real problem you have with payroll being too high? Build an HR system that works. There are some real all-stars on the roster in every agency, but the reality is 80% of the work is being done by 20% of the workforce. Cull the dead wood. Decimate the workforce. Literally. Take the bottom 10% of performers and show them the door and then you’ll be off to a good start on payroll savings. Do it again the next year and you’ll be starting to talk about real money. Take the programs and projects that aren’t showing a return, those that just aren’t working and put them on the chopping block. You could eliminate whole damned departments and agencies that way.

If you want big savings, you’ve got to go big. Taking $1000 out of my pocket isn’t going to do it for ya, so stop pretending that you’ve done anything with this “freeze.” Your spin-masters are telling me that I should feel sorry for wanting my raise this year, but let me tell you for the record, I don’t. I know what kind of jacked up things I fix on a daily basis. I know that it’s my skill and talent, and that of a handful of others that makes incompetents look good. We’re practically miracle workers. And I know what that’s worth – A hell of a lot more than an extra $.48 an hour.

So, until the Congress and the administration are ready to get serious about putting things somewhere close to back on track, I’m tired of being the whipping boy for everything a generation of politicians has done wrong. I want my raise. I know I’ve earned it.

For those who think federal workers are over paid, feel free to visit http://www.usajobs.com and build your resume. Uncle Sam is still hiring. I think you’ll find the view from the inside a little different.