One of those terrible word problems, where "word" really means math spelled out:
If I wake up at 6:45 to go to job 1, and I get home from job 2 just before midnight, how is it that I do not collapse upon entering my apartment? Even counting the hours on my fingers makes me tired, yet somehow I manage to stay up way too late every single night.
Despite the self-inflicted lack of sleep, I think I prefer this sort of lifestyle; it feels much more productive. I wonder if you can hire a service to send someone to sedate you every evening? Or maybe have the neighbor's kids do it for a buck?
I'm even looking for ways to fill Monday and Tuesday evenings, though I should probably leave them for grocery shopping and laundry, no? But the NYU class bulletin, she beckons me, her visually nondescript pages promising unlimited opportunities for education, improvement, empowerment. Unlimited, that is, if money is no object. And as we can see from the as-yet immobile debt-o-meter, that is clearly not the case...yet!
Perhaps if I get hired on full-time I can convince the bosses that I will be much more valuable to the company if they pay for me to learn, say, how to make my own stained glass. Doing that kind of stuff in-house saves a lot on shipping alone, y'know. Something to think about.
January 9, 2008
Harvard Yarn
Before I interviewed at this new job, I realized I owned only T-shirts, jeans, and one pair of black pants that have been through too many things to also subject them to an interview.
So I bought several new "outfits" with the help of an amateur fashion consultant and my confidence was restored!
Even after my interviewer commented twice, in shock, on how dressed up I was, and that I was wearing a tie.
And even after I noticed that every other editor, producer, writer - everybody - was wearing jeans and T-shirts (okay, some sweaters and hoodies, but see how that doesn't fit as nicely into the structure of my story? that's why we leave it out or put it in parentheses).
The good news is that I arrive at work wearing whatever I feel like; sometimes business casual, sometimes casual casual - usually whatever's on or near the top of the pile of clothes at the end of my bed.
Today, the topmost article happened to be my Harvard t-shirt, so I put it on, completely unaware that such an act is a cardinal sin at this particular office.
Those who didn't outright challenge me for being so audacious stared at length at the bold lettering and school motto as they walked past.
Even after I explained to an alumnus-of-Yale writer that I had only just visited, just once, he referred to me and Harvard's sports club as "you guys," as in the spitefully (and actually) delivered remark, "Well, at least you can say you guys beat us 6 out of the last 7 years." Another writer told me she was only upset because she had kids that had applied to and graduated from college. I couldn't tell how that was relevant, but the point is these people freakin' hate Harvard. I think somebody even called me Harvard! Somebody else even leapt to my defense, telling mother-of-children, "It's alright, he didn't go to Harvard."
So in sum:
Worry about what to wear: overspend and overdress
Don't worry about what to wear: become social pariah
I'll go with not worrying, that's just how I roll. Although I think I will shelve the Harvard shirt, at least until I need to stage some sort of silent office-wide protest.
So I bought several new "outfits" with the help of an amateur fashion consultant and my confidence was restored!
Even after my interviewer commented twice, in shock, on how dressed up I was, and that I was wearing a tie.
And even after I noticed that every other editor, producer, writer - everybody - was wearing jeans and T-shirts (okay, some sweaters and hoodies, but see how that doesn't fit as nicely into the structure of my story? that's why we leave it out or put it in parentheses).
The good news is that I arrive at work wearing whatever I feel like; sometimes business casual, sometimes casual casual - usually whatever's on or near the top of the pile of clothes at the end of my bed.
Today, the topmost article happened to be my Harvard t-shirt, so I put it on, completely unaware that such an act is a cardinal sin at this particular office.
Those who didn't outright challenge me for being so audacious stared at length at the bold lettering and school motto as they walked past.
Even after I explained to an alumnus-of-Yale writer that I had only just visited, just once, he referred to me and Harvard's sports club as "you guys," as in the spitefully (and actually) delivered remark, "Well, at least you can say you guys beat us 6 out of the last 7 years." Another writer told me she was only upset because she had kids that had applied to and graduated from college. I couldn't tell how that was relevant, but the point is these people freakin' hate Harvard. I think somebody even called me Harvard! Somebody else even leapt to my defense, telling mother-of-children, "It's alright, he didn't go to Harvard."
So in sum:
Worry about what to wear: overspend and overdress
Don't worry about what to wear: become social pariah
I'll go with not worrying, that's just how I roll. Although I think I will shelve the Harvard shirt, at least until I need to stage some sort of silent office-wide protest.
January 6, 2008
My trifolded note to self says "ageism =)/i r not stupid/slower pace"
In order, then!
I'm beginning to realize I may have been hired partly because I graduated last year. This realization comes after at least half a dozen comments along the lines of, "oh, good, you can tell us if [our program aimed at college students] is hip and fresh." Little does anyone know I've been out of touch with my peers (heck, nearly the whole world) for decades now - I knew Weird Al's version of Smells Like Teen Spirit years before I ever laid ears on the original. I was able to reassure one writer, though, who was worried that an Are You Afraid of the Dark reference might be too obscure - I told him how all the 18- to 22-year-olds at my other job bring that shit up at least once a week.
Okay, so I am a little stupid, but some of the folk at the office are treating me as if I'm some recently-thawed relic of the Ice Age. "Com-pu-ter?" I suppose it's my fault for not being clearer about what pointin' and clickin' skills I possess, but when it comes to technology, it's difficult to give someone a synopsis of exactly what you are and aren't familiar with. As a result, more of my time than I would like is spent watching someone explain something to me that I am already more familiar with than they are. I simply can't figure out a way to stop these impromptu "lessons" without coming off like a complete douchebag, much like I do in this post.
Partly related to this overall theme of people assuming I'm going to be some incompetent chair-warmer is my sneaking suspicion that I'm working way too hard while I'm there. Almost every time I finish something, I'm met with incredulity and some kind of stuttering, "...well...I'll talk to someone and see if we can get something else for you to do..."
As an example, here's a nearly verbatim conversation:
"Hey, I finished capturing that footage."
"All of it??"
"Yeah"
"Everything??"
"Oh, uh, yeah, everything...I mean, everything in those packets you gave me."
"All the packets??"
"Y-yeah?"
"Really??"
And so on, including a thorough check of said packets to make sure I had truly written down and highlighted requested information. (By god, I had! But had I numbered the clips? It's very important that I number the clips...oh, I had, oh good.)
I mention this not to make myself out to be some super-industrious slice of perfection, but to say that I suspect many office workers adhere to some unspoken code that if it can be done in 2 hours, it can also be done in 8, and really, what's the rush?
I'd like to think that even if someday I'm paid vast fortunes to edit per hour, I'd rather work as quickly/efficiently as possible than try to stretch out the time spent in front of a computer, because even though Money = Freedom*, Freedom > Money.
*Disagree? Please leave a detailed comment!
I declare this meeting of the Midnight Society over.
In order, then!
I'm beginning to realize I may have been hired partly because I graduated last year. This realization comes after at least half a dozen comments along the lines of, "oh, good, you can tell us if [our program aimed at college students] is hip and fresh." Little does anyone know I've been out of touch with my peers (heck, nearly the whole world) for decades now - I knew Weird Al's version of Smells Like Teen Spirit years before I ever laid ears on the original. I was able to reassure one writer, though, who was worried that an Are You Afraid of the Dark reference might be too obscure - I told him how all the 18- to 22-year-olds at my other job bring that shit up at least once a week.
Okay, so I am a little stupid, but some of the folk at the office are treating me as if I'm some recently-thawed relic of the Ice Age. "Com-pu-ter?" I suppose it's my fault for not being clearer about what pointin' and clickin' skills I possess, but when it comes to technology, it's difficult to give someone a synopsis of exactly what you are and aren't familiar with. As a result, more of my time than I would like is spent watching someone explain something to me that I am already more familiar with than they are. I simply can't figure out a way to stop these impromptu "lessons" without coming off like a complete douchebag, much like I do in this post.
Partly related to this overall theme of people assuming I'm going to be some incompetent chair-warmer is my sneaking suspicion that I'm working way too hard while I'm there. Almost every time I finish something, I'm met with incredulity and some kind of stuttering, "...well...I'll talk to someone and see if we can get something else for you to do..."
As an example, here's a nearly verbatim conversation:
"Hey, I finished capturing that footage."
"All of it??"
"Yeah"
"Everything??"
"Oh, uh, yeah, everything...I mean, everything in those packets you gave me."
"All the packets??"
"Y-yeah?"
"Really??"
And so on, including a thorough check of said packets to make sure I had truly written down and highlighted requested information. (By god, I had! But had I numbered the clips? It's very important that I number the clips...oh, I had, oh good.)
I mention this not to make myself out to be some super-industrious slice of perfection, but to say that I suspect many office workers adhere to some unspoken code that if it can be done in 2 hours, it can also be done in 8, and really, what's the rush?
I'd like to think that even if someday I'm paid vast fortunes to edit per hour, I'd rather work as quickly/efficiently as possible than try to stretch out the time spent in front of a computer, because even though Money = Freedom*, Freedom > Money.
*Disagree? Please leave a detailed comment!
I declare this meeting of the Midnight Society over.
January 4, 2008
Only today did I realize that editing all day means you have to sit at a computer all day.
The sooner Minority-Report-style user interfaces get here, the better. Anyway, I think better (or more, anyway) when I'm walking around, and I'm sure there'd be creative benefit to using more than just a select few of my fingers.
The other sitting-related thing I learned today was that the sitting position least stressful on your spine is not the classic stock straight 90°, nor leaning forward, but leaning back at a very slackerly angle of of 135°! It's always nice to have your bad habits exonerated, no? So lean back y'all, lean back.
P.S.
Among the most illuminating things I've ever read:
http://www.bartleby.com/59/3.html
The sooner Minority-Report-style user interfaces get here, the better. Anyway, I think better (or more, anyway) when I'm walking around, and I'm sure there'd be creative benefit to using more than just a select few of my fingers.
The other sitting-related thing I learned today was that the sitting position least stressful on your spine is not the classic stock straight 90°, nor leaning forward, but leaning back at a very slackerly angle of of 135°! It's always nice to have your bad habits exonerated, no? So lean back y'all, lean back.
P.S.
Among the most illuminating things I've ever read:
http://www.bartleby.com/59/3.html
January 3, 2008
Add 2, divide by 3, carry the 10,000
I did a little of them mathematics today, and I reckon that if I go all out with two jobs, I can have my credit card debt paid off just before July 4th, which is also about the halfway mark for the year. After that, it's personal/student loans and saving up for early retirement ;)
Related to this, I wonder if anyone knows a good way to cheer up someone who's just had surgery to correct a deviated septum?
Related to this, I wonder if anyone knows a good way to cheer up someone who's just had surgery to correct a deviated septum?
Silver Lining, vol. 1
I expressed concern after my first day at this job.
The clouds:
You see, I am not the only "temporary" hire - there is another! And while he was placed with the most senior editor (someone thought I said "Monsignor Editor" - this will someday be what I call myself), I was placed with the second in command. Monsignor has taken Competition under his wing, showing him all the ropes, pulleys, trap doors, etc.
My mentor, on the other hand, told me he was pretty busy, on a deadline, and didn't really have anything for me to do, so maybe I should just go see what even-lower-on-the-food-chain wants. Okay! That guy didn't really have anything for me to do either, so I ended up helping a couple not-related-to-editing-at-all employees move, sort, and reorganize hundreds of tapes. Basically, I was learning how to count to 2000 while the other new guy was learning how to, y'know, edit?
The silver lining:
I know where all the tapes are, I'm on a friendly basis with the people who make day-to-day stuff work around there, and I am familiar to, and with, most everyone. Whereas I've only seen Competition sitting in the same room watching the Monsignor edit, and I've heard him call someone the wrong name. So I figure that if the time comes when one of us has to go, the same principle will apply as on a farm - once you name the little piggy and get used to its particular oink and they way it helps you organize tapes even though that's not its job, you just couldn't possibly turn it into bacon! In short: I'm Some Pig, he's one of those other animals in that book.
Disclaimer:
Competition is actually a really cool guy, I genuinely wish him the best and doubt that we won't both be hired in the end. He also happens to unintentionally be the Spitting Image of Ron Livingston's character in Office Space, right down to his voice and completely relaxed persona, and how could you not love that?
The clouds:
You see, I am not the only "temporary" hire - there is another! And while he was placed with the most senior editor (someone thought I said "Monsignor Editor" - this will someday be what I call myself), I was placed with the second in command. Monsignor has taken Competition under his wing, showing him all the ropes, pulleys, trap doors, etc.
My mentor, on the other hand, told me he was pretty busy, on a deadline, and didn't really have anything for me to do, so maybe I should just go see what even-lower-on-the-food-chain wants. Okay! That guy didn't really have anything for me to do either, so I ended up helping a couple not-related-to-editing-at-all employees move, sort, and reorganize hundreds of tapes. Basically, I was learning how to count to 2000 while the other new guy was learning how to, y'know, edit?
The silver lining:
I know where all the tapes are, I'm on a friendly basis with the people who make day-to-day stuff work around there, and I am familiar to, and with, most everyone. Whereas I've only seen Competition sitting in the same room watching the Monsignor edit, and I've heard him call someone the wrong name. So I figure that if the time comes when one of us has to go, the same principle will apply as on a farm - once you name the little piggy and get used to its particular oink and they way it helps you organize tapes even though that's not its job, you just couldn't possibly turn it into bacon! In short: I'm Some Pig, he's one of those other animals in that book.
Disclaimer:
Competition is actually a really cool guy, I genuinely wish him the best and doubt that we won't both be hired in the end. He also happens to unintentionally be the Spitting Image of Ron Livingston's character in Office Space, right down to his voice and completely relaxed persona, and how could you not love that?
No cause for alarm
Problem 1: Received mixed information about the alarm system and was first to arrive in the morning.
[It turns out that the difference between a four-digit alarm code (wrong) and five (right) is characterized by a piercing and altogether convincing alarm, followed by realistic visions of a heavily armed security force arriving and opening fire on me and my suspicious paper bag, filled with what forensic experts would later find to be muffins (both corn and chocolate chip).]
Solution: Figured it out before strike team arrived, apologized (semi-)profusely to amused production manager. Problem 1 overcome!
Problem 2: Left passport somewhere in the office two days ago, having brought it for payroll paperwork.
Solution A: Panic, sure that a look-alike is gallivanting in Latin America, committing terrible atrocities and leaving photocopies of my passport as evidence at each crime scene.
Solution B: Open photocopier, retrieve passport, feel affection for coworkers who either a) don't make photocopies or b) carefully replaced my passport each time they did.
[It turns out that the difference between a four-digit alarm code (wrong) and five (right) is characterized by a piercing and altogether convincing alarm, followed by realistic visions of a heavily armed security force arriving and opening fire on me and my suspicious paper bag, filled with what forensic experts would later find to be muffins (both corn and chocolate chip).]
Solution: Figured it out before strike team arrived, apologized (semi-)profusely to amused production manager. Problem 1 overcome!
Problem 2: Left passport somewhere in the office two days ago, having brought it for payroll paperwork.
Solution A: Panic, sure that a look-alike is gallivanting in Latin America, committing terrible atrocities and leaving photocopies of my passport as evidence at each crime scene.
Solution B: Open photocopier, retrieve passport, feel affection for coworkers who either a) don't make photocopies or b) carefully replaced my passport each time they did.
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