after many days of absence here ... it was not that I was busy, more a lack of motivation
(which is the reason why I fail to do about half of what I do not do: the other half should be attributed to simple stubborn
ess and depravity
After this horribly self-referential beginning, let me tell you that being a boss is bastard's work. Yes, I can see you all nod out there ... indeed it is. You must decide about other people's income ! And one is constantly torn between the Demon of Efficiency and the Demon of Tolerance
Demon of Efficiency: if you fired Mr. Foo and Mr. Bar you could hire one really good progo and your life would be easier.
Demon of Tolerance: WHAT ? You had actually promised a raise to Mr. Foo !
DoE: Yes, but in the last two weeks (probably because of the raise idea) he has been slacking like a pro ! He is not worth the chair he rests his sweaty butt on !
DoT: But, but (lip starts trembling) ... you too slack !
DoE: But you are the boss ! You can slack !
... and it goes on and on. Notice the conspicuous absence of any Angel in the dialog. I used to have an Angel of Reason but the various Demons outnumbered and defenestrated him (or her, one is never really sure with angels).
Woe is me, saith baffo. This being out of the way, I must say that a healthy amount of schyzophrenia allows me not to be crushed by my duties and by the possibilities of countless goatfucks: I just tune them out.
Bright, cheery Miss Nice was being crushed by the insanity of the place where we both work. The shifting deadlines, confused objectives and ridiculous requirements, combined with a healthy dose of all-around ignorance, were getting to her: being a smart young woman, she went on vacation. I am happy for her, but I miss the company.
Project Goosefood, now that we are being helped by outside consultants has accelerated its pace ... toward the granite wall that awaits it.
Someone had the brilliant idea to do construction and demolition work in the room where my beloved big, fragile, Sun servers are hosted. The fans promptly sucked in a bucketload of red brick dust, and distributed it inside the machines. I thank Eris for dust-sealed hard disks.
The person guilty for such an unspeakable act of stupidity said that they had covered the machines with a tarp, and that anyway it was unavoidable because those fans sure are powerful. He didn't even say he was sorry. He is a fuckwit. As soon as I can, I will pull the machines out.
In the other side of my job, the Long Haul Division, things are not bad. The new printer, a fine example of when Hewlett Packard gets it right, makes me happy every time I see it. It even has a little IR port, and I can print directly from my Palm Pilot.
My immediate mega boss is on holiday. I am keeping her posted with email, but if I were her, I would ignore it, at least for the first week.
I have re-read "Tristes Tropiques" by Claude Levy-Strauss: lovely.
Homesickness is slowly lifting, because I know that in two weeks' time I'll be in Italy for a fortnight. Joy. I miss my family.