I gotta say it was a good day.
I have finally found the recipe for the perfect workday! Listen carefully.
First, sleep in. For me, this consists of sleeping all the way to 7:30, but you may adjust this as necessary. Then have both your boss and her boss take the day off. Sweet. Go into work and do just enough work not to feel like a complete slacker. Add liberal amouts of instant messaging.
This next step is crucial. Take a four-hour lunch break. Meet your spouse at the Giants game. Watch a phenomenal pitching performance by A.J. Burnett, the Marlins young right-hander. Then see Barry Bonds hit not one, but two home runs to win the game and sweep the series.
OK, maybe it wasn't perfect. I did acquire a sweet combination raccoon-mask/farmer-tan sunburn, and I had to go back to work and stay 'til 8 to finish up the shit that went undone during my four-hour hiatus. But man, was it ever worth it.
I still haven't hired someone, but I think I've made a decision. But when New Economy stalwarts like the Industry Standard pack it in, it makes me wonder about this whole crazy business. Oh well. It's not like I have any real skills or anything. What the hell else am I gonna do for a living — work? I think not. ßßß
Do the Right Thing
I hate to bore you with yet more of my transit travails, but people continue to amaze and disappoint me.
I always, always, always give up my seat to old folks on BART, and I'll usually offer it to women of a certain age. Many times they'll decline, but I know I'll feel like a complete tool if I don't at least offer. I've gotten grief from some hardcore feminists before, but I haven't let that discourage me.
At any rate, last night I gave up my seat to a very appreciative bent-over old woman with a bunch of groceries. It made me feel great, she was very grateful, and I barely even minded the crush of humanity I was subsequently subjected to. So everyone was happy. Awwww.
So it baffles me when I see fit and able-bodied men not offer their seats up to people who need seats. My sister-in-law, when she was like 17 months pregnant, constantly told us about having to badger people to give up their seats. I've seen guys pretend to be asleep to avoid giving up their seat. That's just wrong.
Guys: If the point is to be comfortable, is avoiding eye contact with someone for the length of an entire train ride comfortable? Is knowing that you've incurred the disdain of every other person on the car comfortable? Of course not. So don't be a dick. Ask someone if they'd like your seat. If they say no, you get credit for having tried and you get to keep your seat. If they say yes, then you get the satisfaction of having done the right thing. Who knows? You just might like it. ßßß
Who am I to play God?
So I'm still trying to hire a sidekick-girl/boy Friday-servant. This shit is really, really hard.
First, we received more than 180 résumés. For what amounts to an entry-level position. Given the current state of the Bay Area economy, it's safe to assume that the vast majority of these people are out of work now, or will be soon. So I feel for every last one of 'em. That sucks. My very own lovely wife is currently going through the job search grind, so I know. (She's seeking gainful employment as an analyst, so if you hear of anything. ...) There's really no way that two people (my supervisor and I) could possibly got through 180 résumés and give each one the scrutiny and care it deserves. No freaking way. That's why big companies have whole departments that do this.
So we triage the candidates and end up with like 15 people. We've summarily rejected people who have too much experience, not enough experience, the wrong kind of experience — basically we've rejected people on any grounds we can, 'cuz there's no way in hell we can interview more than 15 people. And even that's a stretch.
So we have a first round of interviews, and we must have done a decent job at triage, because the majority of them are good. There are some clunkers, however, who we don't ask back, but we end up with six solid candidates. We set up a second round. Of the six, two have found other gigs by this point, one doesn't call us back, and three candidates come back in.
We give them each a copyediting test. Each avails himself or herself well. We narrow it down to two people. And I can't fucking decide. Seriously! Who am I to be toying with these people's lives? I'm not qualified to do this.
Sadly, no one is going to do it for me, so I guess I have to choose. And I'll have to live with the consequences of my decision.
So to everyone who didn't get asked in, please consider this my apology to you. I'm sure you are a great person and a hard worker. The numbers worked against you. And to all of you who are out of work and spamming your résumés to all and sundry, try not to get discouraged. It's a numbers game, and it'll eventually add up. ßßß
Good News, Bad News
You want the good news or the bad news first? OK, good news it is.
First, my stats are back. Thank God. Actually, thank .ronn, the genius who provides me with free hosting in association with the .ronn network. I've finally come to terms with being a stats whore, and I'm OK with it. I care how many people come and read this stuff. Actually, I don't care so much about the actual number, but I care very much that that number continues to increase, however modestly. That means that I'm not doing this in vain, that I'm not lobbing these literal grenades into the ether to have them explode harmlessly in the air. Nope, I wanna do some damage.
Stats also rule because I can see who's linking to me, where you people are going, and the crazy, depraved shit that people search for. Some recent search doozies: underage asian girls, animal torture pictures, beyonce knowles fat ass, and bobcat fucking bear. You people. I just don't know.
Also firmly in the good news category is that I got a full 8-hour complement of sleep last night. After some literal fits and starts, I hunkered down for a long evening's sleep. Ahhh, yes. I feel almost human today.
And even more good news. The recent suicide bombings in Israel have done some good after all: They've spared the Israeli people the horror of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Thank Allah for small favors.
Now for the bad news. Which really isn't bad at all, if you think about it. It's actually really funny.
Shark vs. shark: The family of Krishna Thompson, the dude what got his leg bit off by a shark, has retained Johnnie Cochran to sue the shark. OK, I'm exaggerating. The shark didn't have any money, so Johnnie's gonna sue the resort. How is the resort responsible for a shark attack? You got me. But it's outrageous, egregious, and preposterous!
And lastly: These Turkish women are trading sex for water. Dammit. And all this time I've been buying them Cosmopolitans.
Thank you, goodnight! ßßß
On my own, here we go.
I had my first-ever bout with insomnia last night.
That probably sounds strange to most of you, who I assume have had some trouble sleeping at some point in your lives. But not me. I am one of those people who even occasionally sleep-impaired folks want to murder. I am often asleep before my head even hits the pillow. Prior to last night, insomnia for me consisted of having to read for 5 or 10 minutes before I could nod off.
So last night was really bizarre. I got to bed about 11:30, which is late for me. Tossed and turned for a while, and was wide awake by 12:30. From 12:30 to 5:30 I basically went insane.
All sense of proportion was lost. Thoughts that would normally warrant a "Oh yeah, I need to get that done one of these days" type of response were now of grave, terrible importance. No amount of deep breathing, mental tricks or counting sheep made a goddamn bit of difference. It was really, really awful.
In the cold, clear light of day I'm now thinking, "Why the hell didn't I get up and go read or watch TV or something? Anything to stop the bizarre hamster wheel my brain had become." Well, easy for me to say, but at the time, I was delirious from lack of sleep and truly not in my right mind. It was hellish. I have a newfound respect and sympathy for people who deal with this more often than once every 32 years. I love sleep more than just about anything, and to be deprived of it regularly is untenable.
Other than that, though, my weekend was swell. Now if I can only ingest enough caffeine to get through today, all will be well. ßßß
Don't miss last week's brilliant insight.
