Freudian Slip

I've never much liked peer reviews.  It's not that I can't profit from input; it's that I figured that if I was doing something wrong or could do something better, it was worth finding out right away and not some time in the future.  I had a manager who loved them.  I called him Tim the Manager.  Most people thought that it was because there was a programmer named Tim.  They couldn't have been more wrong.  I called him Tim the Manager because, in my view, he had the same middle name and managerial capabilities as Winnie the Pooh. 

Tim wanted people to pledge allegiance to him.  I wasn't very good at that.  He was in his element when he had a room full of people to listen to him spew forth "pearls of wisdom".  During one meeting he started speaking about our new regional manager, a guy named Steve.  Tim the Manager said, and I'm quoting, "Steve's a good guy, I deal with him every day."  The room was quiet.  That's when I made the following, unplanned statement, "Tim, I wonder if your Freudian slip is showing when you say that Steve's a good guy and yet you deal with him every day."  Tim was speechless as laughter welled up throughout the room.

This may have been the reason for my favorite peer review statement of all time.  It was, "Likes to give Tim flack."  Tim was a nice enough guy but not well loved by experienced analysts and coders.

Walking the Dog

It’s been cold here. I know that without hearing the weather prognosticator. The metric I use is the nose wrinkle. I’ve noticed that when it’s really cold, one’s wrinkled nose unwrinkles slower than when it’s hot.

Over the years we’ve rescued a number of dogs. We currently have 2. Miss Chievious is supposedly a Pekinese/Poodle mix but she looks like a Schnauzer. I recently heard that the word “schnauzer” can be defined as “barks for no reason at all.” Missy fits that as she needs to announce herself every time she goes out. The other dog is mostly a Lhasa Apso. She is a Floridian stray we call Little Bit. Little Bit was broken when we got her in that she is not able to go into our fenced back yard to do her business. She has to have formal forays into the foreign environs beyond the boundaries of our property.

At times, I’ve noticed that some dogs or their owners leave unwanted messages in our yard, I don’t like this. Therefore I always carry biodegradable plastic bags with me when I walk the livestock. When deposits are made, I transfer them into the plastic bags. It’s kinda gross but I noticed a cold weather benefit this week in that for a short time, their deposits help to warm my hands.

Dilbertian Event

Here is a prime example of the Dilbertian nature of corporate America. One time our high powered leaders decided to have a town hall on quality. (Have you noticed how the word "quality" is used as if it's always preceded by the word "good"? I have, at times, clearly observed bad quality.) Anyway, these leaders offered to have us submit questions. I did so simply to try to raise awareness at the corporate level about an issue we can improve upon. A couple, of weeks later I received a message down through an interminably long management chain requesting me to answer my question. I did so and finished my reply with the following statement. "I hope my response to my question answers my question."

Problems

When dealing with a problem between you and someone else..... My suggestion is to, when speaking to the other person, start of by saying something like "We have a problem....." The reason is that it puts you and the other on the "same side" while the "problem" is the enemy of you both. Once you're both on the same side, then you can, together, explore possible solutions to the problem. By establishing shared ownership of the problem, the hard feelings have less chance to creep into one's perspective.

The reality is that us people can only think of one thing at a time so if one adopts a positive perspective, and looking for the solution to a problem is positive, there's no room for the negatives.

One more thing I have to say is that every problem already has a solution so the biggest effort anyone has is to search for it.

Finally, this too shall pass. The trick is to help it pass like ships in the night and not like a kidney stone. The ships like to have everyone working together!

Languages

Every once in a while in Corporate Computer-Land, we’d get a survey and one question asked if we spoke any other languages. I learned early on that I had to be my own ombudsman so rather than leave the response blank, I always listed 2 items so that my “skill” set was broader. The first was the infamous Acronym Language (Annoyingly Cryptic References Or Names You Make). There’s a boatload of acronyms in the computer world and since everyone was somewhat conversant I always added the second item. This was Pig Latin. I felt pretty safe listing both languages, and they could be considered languages to those who don’t speak either, because I knew I wouldn’t end up on some project in some obscure corner of the world simply because I spoke the local language.

The Last Time I was Spanked

When I did wrong, my Dad used to spank me. At the time I didn't know that it hurt him as much as it hurt me. The hurt was just different.

My Mom wanted me to learn to play the piano. I'd much rather play than to travel across town to copy notes to a scale and plink around on a piano.

I skipped the lesson one time. On that particularly beautiful day the lure of the swimming pool was just too strong. When asked to explain, I planned on just saying, "I forgot" even though I hadn't. In thinking about my excuse, I decided that I might need a backup plan to stave off any possible physical repercussions so I bought a package of my Dad's favorite candy.

The swimming was great. Afterwards, I scurried home on my bike to carry out my plan. I placed the candy under my pillow thinking that I'd pull it out in a triumph of love prior to my Dad doling out the spanking I figured I was due. I was far too slow and I got the spanking before I could hold up the candy shield. I remember sitting there, crying, as I pulled the package of candy out from under my pillow. I held it up to my Dad, saying, "Here Dad, I bought this for you because I love you."

My Dad just melted. He never spanked me again. Even though I did get my well-deserved spanking, it worked out very well in the end. That was my last spanking.

My Favorite Movie

When my son was brand new I was still cooking professionally. The last place I cooked was not the classic French cuisine I cooked at the Olympic Hotel’s Golden Lion. It was at Fasano’s in Issaquah, simply because I worked days, Monday through Friday.

Anyway, Fasano’s was chosen as a location for a made-for-TV movie named The Secret Life of John Chapman. The star was Ralph Waite, the daddy on the Waltons. He was a college professor who didn’t understand his kids because he’d never worked anywhere but a university. He therefore took a sabbatical to “work in the real world” to better understand the son. One place he worked was a restaurant. Fasano’s was it. I was the “experienced” cook and he came in knowing nothing. I was supposed to be an extra but after the first scene they made me an actor instead. This was partially because even though I had told Ralph that the bread drawer would come all the way out to the floor if, upon opening it, one didn’t stand close enough he pulled it all the way out. At least he didn’t hit his foot as it could have broken a toe. The scene was still filming as he picked the drawer up to try to get it back in place. He couldn’t get it reinserted in the tracks and I knew he was dying out there so I jumped in and took the drawer and put it back in place. As I took the drawer I looked at him and adlibbed “Are you sure you’ve done this before!” With the drawer back in place, the scene ended.

The movie was a good experience and actually the bucks earned as an actor rather than an extra finished paying for the raggedy ol’ Trev’s entry into the world. He’s my son. Of all the movies I’ve ever seen, that’s the one that sticks out most in my mind.