It’s all over but the shoutin’
Posted by Mike
Editor's note: Another historical post. This relatively short post is deceptive. It's hard to imagine what life changing events would grow out of it.
It's no secret anymore that the company I work for has been sold, and the news has really changed the atmosphere around my department and the company as a whole. It's to be expected I suppose but that doesn't make it any more agreeable. I'm only thankful that I've been through this a time or three so I know what to generally expect. I think it's going to be an exciting opportunity for our technology to grow and I hope I'm able to remain a part of it.
Oh what a tangled web we weave
Posted by Mike
Editor's note:I was rereading this post before reposting it and at first I couldn't remember what it was about. I remembered around the time I hit the second paragraph. I think it's a little melodramatic but it's still a decent piece of writing.
In the chaos of moving, holidays, and my own enlightened self interest I have stumbled; stumbled in such a manner that the myriad threads and strings that entwine to build my life were nearly tangled beyond repair. Again. It's cyclic, this endless peat(pete?) and repeat that makes up every person's life. We see in the macrocosm of history: those that ignore history are doomed to repeat it. We see it expressed again and again in religions across the globe. Reincarnation. Resurrection. Circle of Life. Recycling. How is it that I (and most people I think) fail to take note and heed the old adage of learning from our mistakes? Because I'm human I guess. It just seems that with my penchant for observing patterns and troubleshooting I'd catch on sooner. The only thing that has changed is that I can sense the upcoming knot and quietly prepare for it.
So amidst the unraveling and re-weaving of my life I realized that my biggest mistake so far was how I approached having a job. My job has always been about my passions, whether it was books or computers or animals or anything. I gave it my all and invariably got less that what I expected in return. I felt cheated. Didn't life know what I had given up for this? Why wasn't it better? I KNEW I could make it better if I just tried harder... Right? Wrong. It boils down to a simple expression. Job != life. While it's great to do something you love, and everyone really really really really should, don't let it consume you to the point where the life you have IS your job. Almost without fail, I think that has been my biggest mistake.
I came by it honestly enough I think. My dad worked a lot when I grew up, and so did my mom once we got old enough. The difference that I understand and realize now is that they worked hard for a purpose, to raise and provide for us. It replaced their lives but it was a burden they understood and undertook consciously. I emulated that I think under the guise of a "work ethic" and for no reason. I have no children, no spouse, no house to pay for. I do not need to kill myself working day in and day out. It is not asked of me, it is not expected of me, and I am not compensated to do so. In my opinion, any job that requires you to give up your life to do it had better be damned important. Armed Services or Secret Service level important. Not fix networks important.
All this has led to an epiphany of sorts. It's motivated me to make plans. Far-reaching, and almost long term. Almost. I have a lot of resolutions for this year and I haven't told a single soul what they are. I probably won't. I reevaluated. I thought. I carefully untangled threads. I began to comprehend that ambition and achievement, the scales by which I measured the meaning of my life, were useless. Using my success (or lackthereof) in a profession is a poor way to confer value on myself. I think it's time I did more to give myself value instead of looking to others for it.
Remember kids: live your life and work your job. Not the other way around.
Not so fat Albert
Posted by Mike
Albert was the first neighbor we met after moving into the new place. Albert was roughly middle aged and didn't really seem to fit in well. He drove a beat up Cadillac when he left his apartment which was rare, and he continually left his door open and blared hip hop music over the parking lot.
Albert made his debut as he sat on his deck and watched us unload the moving truck. Literally. The man probably eyeballed every box and item we unloaded. He managed to ask my roommate for a trip to the check cashing place because he was too drunk to drive. We all sort of laughed it off that night, but it was two days later when I had my first (and last) run in with him.
It was Friday afternoon; I had the day off and my niece was out of school. She spent the night and hung out with me all day until my sister came to pick her up at 3. Maybe 10 minutes passed when I get a phone call; apparently they were still in the parking lot and she needed help. I freaked out and ran downstairs, blowing past a laughing Albert as he sat on the stairs below his apartment landing watching everything unfold. In the parking lot my sister was talking to a strange black woman while my niece sorta hide behind her leg. I walked up and the woman turned to me.
"Oh my God! Theresa is this your brutha? Nice to meet you Theresa's brutha! Me and her been friends a looong time." I took one look at this woman and the first word that sprang to mind was "crack whore". There was a flaky whiteness around her mouth/nose. Her hair was wild, and she was wearing shorts, tank top, and flip-flops. She sniffled a lot, and I don't think she was in need of some Benedryl. I turned to my sister and gave her a BS story about other sister waiting on her. My niece, ever happy to play along chimed in with "Oh boy we're going to Aunt Chel's house!". My sister fled and I began walking toward the building with the crack whore following me. She rambled on about how she was trying to get Theresa to give her a ride because she needed to check on her baby right? Her baby daddy wasn't home to watch the kids, just her 14 year old... the story got bigger and better every second. I knew better but I asked anyway:
"So uh...how did you two meet?"
"Oh we met a looong time ago, downtown. I haven't seen your sister in forever! What's your name? I know Theresa told me but I done forgot"
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Say, you got a car?"
"Nope, my roommate is at work in it."
"How about a phone?"
"Nope, just moved in. No service yet."
By this point, we were starting up the stairs, and Albert was watching us both. We get to the landing and she starts in again.
"So which one you live in?"
"One on the third floor."
"You aren't being too specific."
"Nope, I'm not. Have a nice day."
At this point Albert stands up and tells her to get back in the house. I go on upstairs and lock the door to call my sister.
As it turns out Albert had apparently picked up this crack whore downtown and brought her back out here. She got here and freaked out and was trying to leave or call someone to come get her. My sister never would tell me why she gave the woman her name.
One call to the front office later and Albert was told to move. Surprisingly enough this wasn't the first complaint against him.
A Moving Story, Part 3
Posted by Mike
Part 1 of the story is here.
Part 2 of the story is here.
So the stage was set. Steak? Check. Booze? Check. Friends? Check. Lots of shit needing to be unpacked? Check. I was forgetting something... Oh right. I didn't own a grill.
Grill/groceries/booze and two hours later we were ready. Park and Michelle were on the deck trying to figure out how to assemble the grill when the instructions consisted of only pictures. I couldn't trust Michelle near fire unattended, and Park had helped load us up, so we decided they needed a break. We ended up with a two stage unloading process; one team unloaded the truck to the parking lot while the other carried it up the stairs. Thanks to four extra sets of hands we managed to get everything unloaded before 8. We were starving, but everyone was afraid to light the grill. It's not that I didn't trust Park or my sister, it's just that I had a strong desire to live to see tomorrow and handling combustible chemicals via pictures doesn't fill me with comfort. We all cowered behind furniture and boxes for that first test light. "Late as always Layla" took over the cooking of the steaks while the rest of us tried to recover from the repeated trips up and down the stairs.
It was after dinner that we met our first neighbor. Specifically, Albert. Albert is a middle aged man who lives across the hall and one floor down. Albert doesn't really fit in with many of the residents as he has a tendency to leave his door open blaring hip hop loud enough to be heard from the parking lot. Albert first came around when Jeff was unloading his car. Apparently Albert had been drinking and asked Jeff to give him a ride to "that there check cashing place". Jeff mumbled something and promptly ran away.
After all the drama of the move, the unloading was probably the easiest part. Unpacking would take weeks: I slept on a love seat for the first week before I could work up the energy to go buy a new mattress and bed. Jeff and I learned a lot though:
- You'll have crazy neighbors wherever you go.
- Save time and energy. Hire movers.
- Never underestimate your friends. Especially their ability to move your belongings while drinking.
- Lemon pepper is probably not the best seasoning for steak. Any port in a storm I suppose.
- Don't wait until 1am to take a shower after unloading. What do you mean there's no hot water? Yeah, the hot water heater is outside. I don't know why the pilot won't light. Yes I'm doing it right.
- To have hot water, it helps to call and connect gas service. The apartment complex maintenance guy will laugh at you otherwise.
- The nice lady at the gas company will put a rush on your order if you give her your heart rending tale of multiple cold showers.
- Always make sure your heat works when you move in. Several weeks into our first month the temperature dipped into the 20s. It got cold.
Lackadaisical writer, amateur photographer, professional grump, and all around spiffy IT guy.
