we suck young blood

I was reading Tim Duncan's bio on a site, and it inspired me to, along with my overwhelming sense of cynicism on this Friday of joy and gladness (only 5 days of work left! Exciting!) write something brutally true and yet over the top exaggerated. and that would be how my institution eats its young.

Not the visiting young, but the new employees. I don't know if this is the case in the real world with real money dollar jobs, but I have seen a lot of super-swift hire-quit actions go down here. Let me explain how somehow, a renowned institution of 400+ employees has built a management system that contrives to suck the souls out of people.

Scenario 1: The impossible situation
There is one senior manager here (and by here, I mean collecting a fat paycheck) who actually lives in New York and is getting her doctorate. I'm not sure how that works. Who okayed this? I mean, what person in there right mind said, 'ah yes Barbie, we should pay her a lot and make her supervisor of 15 people on site, but pay for her to live far away and come to town whenever she wants'? I guess it could work, if she was a stellar manager/communicator, but here no one is a stellar communicator, and Barbie is worst than most.

A testament to this is the way that she can't keep people working for here for any long period of time. New hires are not hired/interviewed by her, so they are never forewarned of her *&*#*&-ness. Barbie will then roll into the scene at her leisure, and about 50% of the time, after the visit we are looking for a new hire. The swiftest hire-quit process I saw was within 24 hours of Barbie's landing at SFO. I am not sure if this is her record. I feel a little bad. The only ones who make it are just like her. It's an impossible situation for people who do not want to become conniving.

Scenario 2: Failure to drink the kool-aid
This is common, when the person hired has been a little lured in by our "mission" and "vision." Then they get in and take a good scope around and see that those were some really awesome pretty-lies we construct in order to not hate ourselves at the end of the day. Many people cut and run at this point. A few stick around, and some get so caught up in the kool-aid that they ask to franchise the stuff so they can peddle it to other unsuspecting folk.

An example of this can be seen, ironically, in our recruiter. He started in October. His last day is Wednesday. Which is too bad for Earnesto, because it means the person he was counting on to find my replacement will not be there. Which kind of means it will be a long time before there is a replacement. Oops!

Scenario 3: They saw behind the curtain
Last year for Camille's birthday, we, plus Renaldo, went to lunch. This was still when Renaldo was having a death-crush on Camille, and as part of his awkward ritual mating dance he had the Hopes & Dreams talk. Way too early in the wooing, buddy. No wonder you failed. But even at the time it was apparent that of the three of us, I was a #2, and they were going to either be lifers or have a #3 moment sometime soon. hopes and dreams don't make it very long here.

Think about it in these terms: Under the guise of 'creative engines,' the place sucks hopes and dreams up and then uses them to power the institution's Project Negative Value. I envision the movement to be similar to that of the beast in Yeats' poem "The Second Coming," slouching towards the target.

When people see past the eyewash and the kool-aid, what they basically see is the machine room of the Hopes & Dreams giant vacuum, and scales fall from eyes quickly. This is how we lose the most promising talent. They go and say, hey, if there is going to be a wizard behind the curtain, it should be something that grants wishes, or at least looks like Cary Grant, and not something that will eventually see me a dried up old bag with no additional training. And then they leave (usually not until I have told them something embarrassing about myself; they have phenomenal interrogation skills).

this cupcake's for you

So, near my place of work is a fine establishment, a purveyor of cupcakes. I love these cupcakes. Brilliant and tasty. Today, in celebration of my quitting, me and Camille went to lunch and then to the cupcake store. I had a sweet chocolate cupcake, and I would like to say, this cupcake is for everyone who has ever been in a work situation that is untenable. It represents the sweet and rich creamy goodness of giving that crappy job the proverbial finger as you leave to do anything but that. Including being unemployed.

So, when I announced I was quitting, Earnesto said that I was too ambitious for this job. Since when is asking for some feedback ambitious? Not accepting mediocrity is not ambition, it is sanity.

As I once said to my #2 favorite Dave, this cupcake's for you, all those who know they are for better things than the dust they have shaken from their feet.

not with a bang

Ignore the title of this blog. Every once in a while, I get the urge to quote, and in the absence of having something to truly say relevant to the topic, I will misappropriate and write about other things. Like my weekend.

So, this weekend, my friend and I went to SFMOMA to take advantage of a neat trick I have of getting in free. Unfortunately, this Saturday it was not such a great trick, since, thanks to Oracle, it was a "Free4All" day. So, we spent the day rubbing elbows+ with the outpouring of the cheap and cultured (and that includes me). Still, it was cool to see the art again, and be with a friend. We didn't get to see the special Olafur Eliasson Exhibit, because we are not crazy enough to wait an hour to go up to the 4th floor. I've seen it before, and it's pretty awesome, but not 1 hour of standing in line awesome. To make up for it, we went to the much-acclaimed gift shop of SFMOMA. I admit to being a skeptic of the claims of its amazingness, but, indeed, it did rock my world. Not enough for me to pay insane prices and wait in yet another line of death (Note, lines do seem to be a problem at SFMOMA, we didn't see the BMW art-car either because of the lines).

Then we meandered to MOAD, or the Museum of the African Diaspora. I know what prompted the question, but it opened with the line "When did you find out that you were African?" Fine, whatever, except I am pretty much Wonder-bread white, and so it amuses me when they try to make sweeping statements like this. I know, they are saying all human life came from Africa. I get it. And African Culture permeates everything. But still, I smiled. Also, let me add that though a delightful space, MOAD is not equipped to fit the number of people packt like sardines in a crushd tin box.

Finally, we ended it by wandering through the rainy-day streets and shopping. Okay, I spent all the money. But I bought my favorite game, Ticket to Ride, and some music. Then I went home and played the game online for hours with my sisters. Happiness through Technology, people.

Another thing of note of Saturday was the USCv.UCB football game. I used to follow college football with the same fervor you now see exerted towards the NBA, but I was quickly cured of that by going to a college football game. I now find it slightly baffling that as many people from USC should be descending upon Berkeley like a hoard of locusts. Don't you have other responsibilities? They were everywhere. In the museums, in the stores, on BART, walking noisily by my house after they won the game. I tell you, it didn't help endear them to me.

Now I will work, until 3, when I will be playing trains again online with my sisters.

What is it about the Accounting Department that makes them want to drink?

Maybe it's the fact that they deal with the dirty cold facts that underlie this place, that we are poor, and will perpetually be poor. Maybe it's the way they all secretly seem to hate each other. Maybe they are all so overworked that they have no friends to go out with in real life. But our accountants here tend to be BIG fans of the happy hour, and beyond. And Monday night, we went out to celebrate 10 years of service from our resident groupie, Susie.

Susie is crazy. She is the type of obsessive energy type person I talked about earlier in the Harry Potter post, except for minus the anime. Instead, add in Buffy, anything Sci-Fi and Fantasy, and soooo much more. She gets 6 weeks of vacation for her time served, and I think that almost every second of it is spent at some convention. Unfortunately, she missed Comi-Con this year, and will also take a miss on Dragon Con as well. But she has at least three more planned for the year. But what really makes her crazy is the fact she has been here for 10 years.

Never mind the fact that we have treated her horribly as an institution, and shuffled her around like some sort of rummy cube tile. She's here for the vacation.

Monday we went to a bar that has table that they must have pillaged from a massive garage sale of round end tables. They are all about the size of a postage stamp. Not designed for group visits. It is also dark and noisy, but plays sports of three tvs, which redeems is slightly. Since I don't drink, I often get bored and watch the tvs, since they are slightly less embarrassing than watching coworkers work on drinking themselves into the ground.

Since Accounting/ Finance is one of the largest admin. departments, I thought for sure there would be more people showing up. Battleaxe's low turnout numbers from that department would have been due to the fact she was an absolute witch (although she did once buy me a scone). I mean, 10 years is something.

Something to ignore, apparently. From what I hear, a total of 8 people showed, including myself and Susie. Henry was there, and it was clear he still had a thing for my coworker, so maybe it is not so tragic that he is leaving. It was a modified open tab, where you had a settling up at the start of each round. Pre-pay tab. I left early, so I can't comment on the success of this strategy, but I don't think that we ended up $120 in the hole.

So where were the absentee accountants? One had a legit excuse: planning for a wedding. He would have never heard the end of it if he had not reported for duty. The rest? MIA. Can't they even come and fake it through a single round? Friends don't let friends celebrate in a dismally attended affair.

All this time I was working?

Today I was talking to my boss (the one who is my titular boss at least) and it revealed something to me I never had realized. All I really need to do is a few token things and sit at my desk all day. He doesn't know what else I do, besides schedule his super-dull Meetings of Doom (Parts I and II). We were talking about how this one lady I work with was driving me nuts about planning a party for someone on their way out. Then it happened, he opens his mouth and says "Why is it bothering you? It's not like you're doing anything besides scheduling."

I tried to explain that I did more and went into details, but his eyes glazed over and I just barely refrained from beating him. Those of you who know me know this is somewhat miraculous. I then went to talk with my boss (the one I don't technically report to anymore, but who actually cares what I do) and she said, "good. Stop working so hard. Do more nothing."

So my new resolution is to stop and smell the roses. Read more ESPN. Take the online pirate quiz. Write more banal emails to vague acquaintances. Brush up my resume and apply for a job that expects more out of me than being a mannequin with a blackberry.

My mind is a file cabinet

I was on my way home from work today listening to my ipod. The ipod is perhaps right behind the internet in the ranks of antisocial inventions. My ipod has successfully prevented me from making any friends on my commute for nearly a year. And it provides my with a conveniently sized soundtrack to my life to drown out the people I half-loathe, half-fear.

So, as I was saying, on my way home, listening to Arcade Fires Neon Bible, specifically at the point "My body is a cage." I disagree. Granted, my body isn't something to shout about compared to some bodies. And the nature of a physical body is to have as many drawbacks as advantages. But that is not a description to which I would subscribe. Here's what I would say:

My mind is a filing cabinet. Example - I have a coworker I will call Sue. In my head, I mentally have a file folder labelled Sue and it is stuffed full of all the information I have ever connected with her. In it I find the note that she likes almonds, and will only eat dark chocolate. For her birthday she saw Massive Attack at the Greek Theater. Objective, discreet facts. Also in there is my analysis of her, that she is a dreamer and an optimist, and will probably be consistently disappointed with people and life for not fulfilling it's potential. And when I interact with Sue, I mentally pick out her folder and scan.

And the crazy thing is (a line I'm sure will be in every post) in my head, when I go to get the file, I have to go to the correct file cabinet in this mental room construct, open the appropriate drawer, and pull the file. If, for example, the file refers to another file, I have to find that one, which may be across the room. To continue the example, the connecting Massive Attack folder is in my music cabinet, not my coworkers one, and to retrieve it, I have to cross the room. This is often accompanied by my eyes moving in a correlative manner.

The eye movement is troubling due to the theory of eye movement in interrogation. Many people say if a person looks one way they are remembering, and another way is fabricating. But for me, it's purely locating the correct file. Not that I don't lie. Oh, I lie, but not about the file cabinet.

I don't know if this is something that is the cause of a good memory, or a result, but I have a lamentably accurate recall capability. Many a boy has thought I was stalker-level obsessed due to the fact I could remember the conversation we had months ago. And I have a killer knack for remembering the embarrassing. My brother always has referred to my memory as my arsenal, because any fights we got into were fuelled by my ability to find the right button based on a whole store of facts about him.

I worry that someday, my file cabinet mind will go down in a conflagration. Aging has the ability to nullify my entire way of thinking. There are times when I would be happy to be twenty-something forever. Barring that, I will go on as I am, pulling files and sounding crazy.

By the way, "My Body is a Cage" is one of my least favorite tracks on the album. Come back to what you know, Win.