So Bored...

So,

Here we are.

Yet another day of doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT WORK.

I understand it, and in a weird way I kind of appreciate it. You see, I'm leaving so they can't really give me anything meaty to sink my teeth into: a mega-project is SO out of the question. Anything that requires any DELVING might take me too long to complete so the only thing they throw at me are things a snotty second-year Commerce student could do:

• Correct the spreadsheet.


• Update report X with this month's content.


• Archive the budget files. You mean copy spreadsheets from the network to CD-R? Yes. It's very critical [yawn]


• Pick up my drycleaning. OK I'm kidding about this one. But it would be a welcome change of pace.

Five more days to Interview 3 with my potential new employer and I've never been a very patient man. I want to leave this company with good feelings and bridges unburned, but the temptation to make smart-ass remarks about everything and everyone is threatening to overwhelm me...

Must not make joke about CEO's bow-tie.
Must not make joke about uni-brow in the corner office.
Must not sing company slogans in sarcastic whiny voice.

Must resist temptation. Must not scratch the itch!

Beep!

[fuckin' backdoor security system!]

BEEP!

[grrrrr!]

BEEP!

[that's it. I'm going to the lunchroom!]

BEEP!

[you win. I'm leaving.]

BEEP!

[I SAID YOU WIN!]

BEEP!

[ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!]

Relocated! And it feels soooo GOOD!

Actually no, it doesn't. But I couldn't come up with any clever song that expressed disdain for the situation.

Stabby Stabby!

Hilarious to see the questioning, slightly fearful look in co-workers' eyes as they see me carve up an apple with my trusty fruit-knife.

They must fear I'm disgruntled or something.

Or pissed at the company.

Or society in general.

Maybe I'm dangerous...

Interview 2 Debrief

Silly me! I forgot to tell you about Friday's second interview:

2:45pm Northeastern Brampton, Ontario, Canada (Bramalea Industrial Park for those that know the area. The Kraut walks through the doors of the head office of a large (by $$ sales) and small (by headcount) import/export firm...

I'm 15 minutes early. A good number that. Not so early that you appear desperate for the job, but early enought that you've shown that you've actually planned out how to get to the interview with time to spare. Thoughtful, not desperate. I wait in the lobby, listening in on flirty banter between the burly Fed-Ex guy and the receptionist, who really seems to dig the guy. I tell the receptionist who I am, why I'm there and who I'm to see. She punches some numbers on her panel...I am announced.

The foyer is small, yet busy, done in tasteful non-showy colours. I don't know why but it kind of reminds me of a modern show kitchen: blacks and whites and marble counter-tops. Efficient. Profitable. It looks on to the parking lot where cars are coming and going with a lot more frequency than most of the industrial parks I've seen.

Out comes my maybe future boss...

The one thing I remember most is her talking style. She spoke like Kathy Griffin from Suddenly Susan (yeah I caught a few episodes: getting over a Brooke Shields Blue Lagoon crush takes some doing let me tell you...)

Blather blather blather: The woman spoke a mile a minute in a perverse valley girl drawl that made it hard for me to peg her intelligence level. I think this was intentional: it certainly gave me pause to figure out exactly who I was dealing with.

Weird interview: normally I expect to talk 70% of the time, but she wanted to do all the talking. I decided to relax and let her drive the process.

Anyways, I got the scoop on the job and company, made the right noises about my communication skills and my "take charge" attitude and left with a soft commitment about interview 3, with the CFO, when he gets back from vacation after a week, with the same platitudes about "other candidates" "get back to the headhunter with feedback" (both phrases uttered with total lack of conviction: I am the only current candidate that hasn't been deep-sixed outta there...)

Overall, I came away positive about the company and my potential future boss seemed OK (if a bit flighty) so if they offer, I will accept.

In the meantime though, the search continues.

Just in case.

Big Surprise

You are Lust.

Every part of you screams "Do me now!"
You exude sexuality and while others sometimes
view you as a slut, you see yourself as only
giving into your base desires.


What Emotion Are You?
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Interview 2

As predicted the interview with the headhunter went well.

The company wants to meet me at 3pm today. I'll be leaving work in North York at 12 noon to go home, eat, shower, shave, put on my suit and check out the drive from home to Brampton, where the office of the Interviewer is located.

Geek I am...

It's amazing what you can do with the right toys...

Because of my snazzy new D-link wi-fi card I'm actually writing this entry from my handheld HP IPAQ while lounging in my easy chair.

Yet another thing that will conspire to keep me sitting on my fat butt growing in girth.

The past lives in us (even if we don't like it...)

Thanks to a comment by Hariolf today I thought I'd write about something my wife and I talk about quite frequently. We are both first-generation born-in-North America children-of-immigrants; in my case mostly German, in my wife's case mostly Italian.

What we've noticed is that the Europeans that came to North America after the war seem to be preserving the traditions and mindsets (for good and bad) that they grew up with. So in my case, dealing with the older generations of German relatives that crossed the Atlantic after World War II is like dealing with Germans of the 1930's - National Socialist sympathies included. Whereas when I speak to modern Germans from Germany they are very different than my relatives: forward-thinking, pacifist, to a large degree socialist, with a true regret and shame for the events of the Holocaust.

Trying to get many North American Germans to even ADMIT there was a holocaust without pulling out any fingernails was a rare occurence, and when they do they dis-associate themselves from the events because they happened "so long ago" and were acts committed by "others."

For Germans from Germany however, it seems the war is a wound that has never healed properly.

Burning

Growing up in British Columbia, every summer brought on the inevitable forest fire season. I remember watching the news, seeing the flames but it all seemed so remote, like it was happening somewhere else; that was until the Okanagan Valley was choked with smoke one summer in the 80's from blazes hundreds of kilometres away.

Because of that dry tinder-box weather that I remember and envy right now as I sweat and sweat on my way to work, B.C.'s interior was always threatening to explode into flames.

Now, in the sweltering humid mosquito pit that is the Greater Toronto Area I can only watch and remember as it happens yet again.



Shit.