Last Updated : Sunday, 13 January, 2002 at 07:32 PM -0600
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| Daynotes On a Budget Last Updated : Sunday, 13 January, 2002 at 07:32 PM -0600 |
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Monday, January 7, 2002
Well, now. 2002. Finally. Dragged me kicking and screaming, no doubt. But enough about the morning wake-up routine...
Yes, big changes here. Those of you using IE 6.0 for sure (and possibly 5.5) might notice fun stuff on the scroll bar to the right there... And there's been some fiddling with CSS, again. No forced font sizes or anything, just some tweaking... Oh, yeah - I've parked the long (!) blathering over there...
And finally, finally today, nearly a month after learning about it, I've got some arrangements for the trip to Tempe. Did you know that Tempe is near Phoenix? Me neither. But it seems my Brother-In-Law in jets is going to be there the same time. His jets, unfortunately, are single-passenger jobbers. I can't touch those. Of course, if I could point the nose straight up and accelerate, I doubt I'd be working in software. Yes, he works with F-15s. I'm jealous. I doubt we'll run into one another. I tend to like to hide when it comes to travel. Watch some TV, sack out early, get it over with, and get home.
Yeah, I like flying, and travel's kinda fun, but you've got to remember, this will be the 9th/10th time I've flown. Not a whole lot, in my book. Though more than I think my father has. I've been to Denver (and back), flown to Dubuque once, Dallas (and back), then the big trip - Minneapolis to Detroit to Grand Rapids, then home from GR. I've not flown since, and that last trip was back when Jack was an infant. And this will be my first trip to the Southwest. I guess I'll be happy to be home. It'll be fun, but nice to be home.
And, of course, some brief housekeeping notes - next week's page-flip will likely not happen until Thursday, as I'll be out of town until Wednesday night. Wife and children will, of course, be in secure environments the whole time. One benefit of being in an apartment building. Security. Oh well.
And I see, rather than produce something like the iWalk or otherwise, Mr. Jobs (he of Apple Computer) has gone once more to the well with iMac. Admittedly, this is one I'd be unembarrassed to put in my house, truth be told, as it looks more like an appliance and less like a ... well, computer-toy, truth be told. Though, with all of the "wireless" buzz out there, Jobs should get on the bandwagon. The coolest thing would be to see that iMac sitting there with only one thin cord coming out for power. The rest would be wireless/Infrared. Speakers, keyboard, mouse. Simplify things greatly, there. Oh well. What do I know.
Oh well. Some deeply unsettling news on the 'net today, including this one, where the monkeys apparently dribbled brains out the brain pan there at Microsoft, and this one, which makes all of that "find out anything about ANYONE" spam so much more sinister. Du'ya think we can pin "accessory to murder" on spammers? It's a pleasant thought.
Speaking of unpleasant things like spammers, do any of you remember Walter Miller? Not the playwright. The other one. The ... well, as he says, young man from California who lived in Texas with "Granfathor"? Yes, indeed. THAT Walter Miller. I have no idea why that stuff was funny. I spent two weeks reading through his site back in ... God help me, 1996 or 1997. Every so often I wonder "gee, did he ever get a life or did those sicko college boys finally get tired and kill off the whole schtick?" I can't make up my mind. At one time, I exchanged a couple e-mails with "Walter". I even got one from the old "Basterd" himself, which scared me off the computer for nearly twenty whole minutes. There are times when, I swear, he's a fake - no one could suffer this much without some sort of sentence being involved - then, on the other hand, I have seen stranger things. Remember, I grew up with four sisters.
Anyway, as of "Summer 2001" Mr. Miller was still at it. No ads, no wandering, bandwidth-hogging graphics. Certainly no good ideas for web designers to steal from. Although, for your tormented pleasure, nothing beats Walter's Wedgie Pages.
And just a little more unpleasantness, before we round the corner to the upbeat. I think I've found a new job... I heard on the radio this afternoon a report which detailed the US Army's testing of various "non-lethal" methods which relied on certain sensory inputs to disable the enemy/opponent. This particular round of tests focused on certain malodorous materials. I figure since Mr. Lemmings is in England, I'll have to do my bit for the country, so point me in the right direction and get me that Bud Light and Picante sauce. It's a sacrifice I'm prepared to make for my country. I just hope those folks in the testing labs have plenty of life insurance. I know a few people who are, right now, screaming into their cheerios... or something.
You know, I can't help it. This actually sounds like fun. He needs a bit of help with a larger vocabulary, of course - anyone who needs to resort to that much profanity needs a better thesaurus or something. But wow. A full day at Home Depot. Of course, I'd probably pass out with tool envy... er... shut your pie holes, you laughing fellows you... Yes, you and you, for starters...
On to more upbeat news. We got a couple of calls tonight - one from the finance guy and one from the realtor. We've been cleared to look a wee bit higher in the price range, which gets us not only into the suburb we want (Savage - sounds appropriate, doesn't it? "Hi, I'm Jack Dominik, from Savage" - I think I'll get it tattooed on Jack's head. heh), but into some nice houses as well. . . Now, the fun starts.
And with that, my work here is done. OFIM, indeed.
Tuesday, January 8, 2002
Sorry, folks, but things will be sparse here for a few days. My main workstation decided to take leave of it's senses last night - it proceeded to refuse to recognize CDs in the drive, denied the existence of a second hard drive in the case, and then, quite happily, like a cannibal eating it's own young, proceeded to consume the entire registry.
Now, you would think, this fellow's got backups and the like. And I have. Unfortunately...
As John Lennon said - "Life is what happens when you're making other plans." Indeed.
The good news is that I was able to boot to a point where I could see the Hard drive, and all of the data is there. None of the programs or various hardware bits and bobs are recognized off this thing, so that bites big-time, but at least the data's safe. All I need to do is get it to a machine which works...
Oh well. No rest for the wicked.
Wednesday, January 9, 2002
Well, there's good news and bad news this morning, just like everything else in the world.
No, it's not even 9 am, I've already had a headache for most of the night, and then this. Someone let the bad luck fairy out of the damned cage again, didn't they?
On well. Onward and upward.
Thursday, January 10, 2002
Well, you know that "Even Worse" bit above? Never, ever, ever think that you've seen the other shoe drop.
For those of you allergic to whining (like myself 90% of the time), please skip the rest of today, and possibly this week. Thus having issued the warning, he forged ahead...
This collection of pages might go on hiatus for a while. The reason? I might need to spend some time on other things. Like finding a job.
At 4:04 pm this afternoon (yes, I looked at my watch), my boss stopped by my cube. He wanted to chat. This is unusual enough. When he said "let's go to the conference room" I knew it was bad.
The deal is that we lost money. Because we lost money, there might be "additional cost-reducing measures". One of those cost-reducing measures might be a layoff of additional "non-development personnel". One of those non-development personnel is, well, me.
Nothing's certain. Nothing's going to be decided until next Tuesday, so the pin-and-needle bed is out here at the Dominik Hovel. My Boss has taken great pains to explain to the powers that might be responsible for making the decision that I am "the glue that holds the office together" and it's likely that the addition of other non-developer duties to our potentially-remaining developer's plates would well reduce head-count further because they're going to be forced to do various tasks they don't want to do.
So, if you're feeling charitable, do me a favor and think some good thoughts for me? If things do go into the tank, this site will go on hiatus until I find another job - I don't need the distractions.
Now, cometh the whine. I know that the economy's tough all over. I'm no idiot. What I can't figure out is why me again? The boss took great pains to explain to me that it's absolutely not anything at all related to my performance. In fact, the company and my boss were quite willing to function as references if the need arises (God I hope it does).
I'm just fed up with this. I work hard at work. I try hard to continue to learn. I've picked up a lot of "fall-in-the-cracks" stuff at this job. Stuff like SQL Server Replication. There's a lot of technologies like MDAC and other bits and bobs I've picked up and are useful - but I just don't know what's going to happen.
I really, really hate this. The not knowing, the sudden notice, and the end of security. And we were set to view five houses this weekend. Now I don't know what's going to happen. I do know that the trip to Tempe is off, which I could take as a bad sign.
I just don't know what to do, other than keep slugging along. I'm just sick of this - sick to my stomach and sick and tired of getting pushed around and busting my butt and trying very hard only to be told "I'm sorry, it's not you, it's us." Well, you're not the one out of a paycheck. Sheesh.
I really, really hate this.
At least I got the laptop working...
Friday January 11, 2002
How was today?
My daughter gets out of the car and happily walks to the door. She turns, waves, and goes through. I sigh, and I can drop the brave face. I drive, under the speed limit, another unusual event, through the relatively light Friday traffic. Cross the Minnesota River, noticing the sunlight's first colors on the now-melting ice. A warm January in Minnesota. That's one of those things that belongs right next to "hell freezes over" in the lexicon. Then again, it might already be there.
My morning started long before, and it manifests itself in irrational ways, this fear. I went through the closet, noting tonight or tomorrow is Laundry time. I've got three shirts hanging in the closet. One's a white short-sleeve dress shirt - too tight for normal wear, unless I drop some of this around the middle. The other's a dress shirt - blue, long sleeves, with funny cuffs - they're too tight for my wrists. The third is my tan-brown polo shirt. No pocket, and it's the shirt of the damned. It never stains, though most of my others, if looked at under very strong light, have some stain or mark somewhere on them. Most are so faint you can't see them. This shirt's still spotless.
That tan polo was on me when I sat down in my then-boss's office and he said he wanted to "kick me from the nest" nearly 18 months ago. It was on me back in April when the first round of layoffs occurred. It was on me in May, when my boss told me he was leaving. It was on me September 11th. It damned well will be on a hanger come January 15. Irrational? Perhaps. I dunno. I don't think a shit-brown shirt is responsible for all of my pain and suffering, but if I feel that way while wearing it, let's not take the chance, shall we?
I also found my cross. I'd misplaced it before Christmas vacation - I'd worn it pretty continuously for the last 20 years, but for about a 6 year break before Jack was born. It's a comforting reminder to me of what's important in my life.
We'd all even left early. Quietly, with little of the yelling that occurs during a normal morning. Everyone getting to the appropriate location at the appropriate time. I hope. Though Rhiannon was nearly silent in the car.
We'd had a conversation, going out the door.
"Do you have your snack?"
"Yeah, I have just one granola bar."
"Is that OK?"
"Yeah. Newie told me I had to bring two, but I couldn't find another one."
"Who's Newie?"
"She tells me to bring her a snack."
My first reaction isn't that my daughter's kind and generous. It's that she's feeding someone else's kid with my potentially soon-to-be-gone dollars. Good grief, stop it, kid, or we'll all starve over the loss of a couple granola bars! Yeah. I'm sane. Right. Get a grip, here.
"Well, do you offer or does she make you?"
"She tells me to bring one because she doesn't."
"Oh. Well, only bring enough for you for a couple days and maybe she'll remember to bring her own."
"So I shouldn't share?"
"No, sweetie. You can share. But when someone tells you that you have to bring something for them, that's wrong."
"But they tell you at work to bring things."
"Yes, but they're paying me. It's part of my job. What's Newie giving you for the Granola Bars?"
"I can be her friend."
"Well, honey, I don't know about you, but I don't know if I'd want a friend like that who made me do things so I could be a friend. My friends should be my friends because of who I am, not what I have."
"I know Daddy, I know. I was just trying to be nice. I'm not going to do it any more. I don't think she really likes me."
"Ok honey. You know what? I love you."
"I love you too daddy."
Going down the stairs I nearly cry. Again.
Not one question after I'd gotten in from scraping the windows. Not one comment. I asked if she was OK, and she said fine. Kept looking out the window. Listening to MPR, which was running a report on the burial service for Master Sergeant Nathan Chapman. She listens as the general reads the bible verse, as he talks about the courage it took, and as they call the role one last time. I'm crying as the salute fades and taps comes over the radio. It seems to echo a certain phase of my own life. I hope it's not prophetic.
We even get to school six minutes before the doors opened. Got my favorite parking spot, and facing the right way, too. Now she's in school.
So anyway, I'm driving.
I get off the freeway, and travel city streets. Come up near the "crane farm" where one of the local businesses I've interviewed with is building a new corporate campus. Twenty-seven cranes at one count. I don't even bother to look for a crane census today. This is Friday of the first week since they've removed the Penn Avenue crossing - the "back route" I take to work is not quite as busy as it has been all week long. I follow city streets.
I cross France Avenue. My stomach makes me aware of the anguish that awoke me throughout the night, finally pushing me out of bed at 4 am. It's not going to go away any time soon. I make the half-corner, and turn into the parking lot. I notice a large truck removing construction supplies from the building. At least it's not desks and computers, I tell myself.
I turn off the vehicle, shut off the lights. I know, I know. Wrong order. Take a deep breath, grab my briefcase, and lever myself out of the car. On the one hand, I think "man, I've got to get a bigger vehicle - I'm just too big for a Tempo". On the other hand I think "boy, I hope I can keep this thing running for a few more years until I can get a decent, stable job." And I'm thankful I've got transportation.
I get into the elevator. Unusually, there's a construction fellow and another woman. I almost never ride this elevator with others. It's usually a chance to relax. This morning, it was going to be my 20 seconds to fall apart and get it back together. Not today. Oh well.
I'm the first one off. I come out of the "lobby" and look down the hall. Good. No one standing in the hall outside the door. That's a pleasant sign, I hope. I walk past the first door. It's locked. That's good and bad. The maintenance people typically leave one door unlocked at least once a month. So far, so good.
I approach the second door. It's in a little alcove. I look as I come down the hall. No one's hiding in the alcove. Another "phew". There's no one hiding in the alcove. I did it my second day, waiting for someone with a key. I got mine the fourth day. Speaking of, I take out my keys. Today marks the thirteenth month since I started at Frontstep. Coincidence?
I hesitate. Briefly. Will they work? Doesn't look like new locks or cores. It looks like they will, but is it better not to know, or better to know? The uncertainty allows you some illusions that things will, you hope, continue as normal and yesterday was just a really, REALLY bad dream. You can hope.
Knowing's better. I push home the key. It opens the lock. I switch to the second lock. Unlock. A sigh of relief. A small one, though. I open the door. The lights are all off. I turn them on. Good. I notice the monitors I left on the night before are still going strong. I check - I'm still logged into a system I deliberately forgot about last night, just in case. Next, the big test - I log into my 2K Workstation. Will my password work? You bet. Thank God.
Now I get to work. Address the issues I've got. Try to concentrate.
I had a gentleman some years back tell me that life is like juggling four balls. Three of glass, one of rubber. Faith, health, family, and career. And the rubber ball was career. And all over you hear the emphasis - "Family, Faith, Health" - put your job last, etc., etc., etc.
It's easy to say. Tough to do.
I was talking with my friend last night. We go back 30 years now. When I was in second grade, I couldn't imagine still knowing this goof I said "why is it that when you're poor, you focus on money. Once you've got job security, you worry about your health. Once you're healthy, you worry about your faith. Once you've got religion, then you've got everything, but all along the way, the people who tell you 'hey, faith is important' are already financially secure and successful?" He didn't have an answer.
It's easy to focus on family, and health, and faith. But when you're looking at a loss of income, when I focus on my family I see my son, who will have to come out of daycare and stay home with me, again. I see his sister, blooming, growing, and making great strides in school, who will have to come out of her daycare, as well, because that's another expense we can't afford. I see my wife, working hard at a job she likes, trying hard to keep the financial family ship afloat while I flounder along like an unneeded anchor.
I find myself not hungry for food. I find myself being conservative with the dumbest things. "Don't use too much toilet paper. Don't lather the soap up too much. Be sparing with the shampoo and toothpaste. Don't know how long all of this will have to last." Irrational, yes, but a painful reality.
The others straggle in. About 10 am my boss pulls me into the conference room. More news. He got approval to explore the potential for a "transition period" - a "well, we gotta let you go but we need your brains/broad back/fingers/whatever". So it might not be "sorry, it's Tuesday, your last day, good bye." I'll take all the good news I can get. I stand to leave.
He also says "I did what you asked me not to. I told everyone else." I looked at him. "I asked them to give me reasons why we need you around here, and what would happen if you were let go." I've never, ever, ever been more thankful that someone hasn't listened to me. I don't tear up, though. I keep my composure.
He asked for two things. First, what's it gonna take to finish up or bring to a stopping point my various projects. Second, a "position paper" on what it is I do that others might not be aware of. Some specific, solid things he can give to his boss, and his boss's boss, to possibly swing the balance towards keeping me.
I start working on a "my duties/transition plan" document. It runs to two pages - as a list. I start to flesh it out - one or two sentences on each duty. This prompts other things. More duties. I know I tend to ramble. I cut it down to one sentence per duty where I can. It runs over five pages.
At the end of the day, my coworkers have combined to give me a list - a 22-page list - of things they want me to do, things only I could have done, or things they need me for. Lots and lots of things that I've done for them and can do in the future. Lots and lots of plans for things they'll need.
And the last minute-project, before I left, came up. I've got a dual-processor server with 256 MB of RAM. Swappable hard drives. Drive3 is NT Server 4.0, SQL 2000, and it's just dragging. I took a look at the system. Couple of problems.
So, I cleaned off some of the C: Drive, reduced the swap file size to the recommended 267 MB, and moved it to C:. Wanted to defragment C:. The developer looked at me blankly. "Log out of the server on the domain, and then log back into the machine as administrator, with the password." "Huh?" "Here." Logged out. Logged back into the machine. Away we went. "Now, this is gonna take a while, so you might as well go home." "Really? Cool!" Of course, he came in three hours early, for a developer, so that's not excessive. At least, I hope.
So, all in all, it's been a fairly good day. I hope it continues like this. We'll see. And Just in case you wrote me for encouragement today and I didn't respond, thank you very, very much. As Mr. Beland pointed out, there's little point in stopping this journal, as it's well-cached on Google, at the very least.
As to the rest of you, thank you so very, very much. I do appreciate it. Very much.
Saturday, January 12, 2002
See Tomorrow...
Sunday, January 13, 2002
Well, no deeply profound insights from me today. Last night we went over to a friend's house. She happens to work for a $27-billion local non-profit organization undergoing a $2-billion budget cutting exercise. This organization is known as the State of Minnesota. She's an auditor, low on the totem pole despite eight years of employment at the organization - which sucks. Her husband, on the other hand, is a mechanic and employed in the construction trade - works on cement trucks. He's also looking down the barrel of a potential layoff.
She invited us over for a relaxing, commiserating evening. Which was nice. We did about nine loads of laundry previous to that, and got nearly all of it put away. Then, of course, we did a trip to Church for Saturday night mass - Seems that Fellowship Weekends include a Saturday night cookie session. Not too shabby. So after that, over to the friend's house for dinner.
We chatted for a while and then I rudely fell asleep a couple of times in the living room. We made it home after about eleven, and then I sat up until well after 2 am.
This morning we got up and in a fit of sheer stubbornness, we decided to go drive the potential houses anyway. And some of them were just plain right out, while others showed definite promise. Then we went to McDonalds and let the kids play in the playland for about an hour, then came home, and the upset tummy overtook me.
It's been a long, rough weekend. I find myself thinking through various scenarios for Tuesday. "If he says this, I'll say.." and the like. It's something to keep my mind off worrying, I guess. Though it does little to ease my nerves. It's just painful to be "starting over" again. Make friends, learn the ropes, learn the system, and then move on. My father worked for the same organization for over thirty years, and while it didn't pay well, it did provide stability. Actually, there were downsides to this, but I'm not going to air the laundry here.
I can only hope that tomorrow or Tuesday will bring good news. Though I fear it will not. I guess there's nothing to do but to be brave and go on. Others do, I can too. Though I don't much care for the way it's started. I can only hope it will have a pleasant ending.
Off to another week. And I do, really really appreciate all the support.
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