Hello Stranger

I tried to blog last week. I wrote this whole thing…and then my browser ate it.  I’d gotten up early to go sit at a coffee shop and work. Instead of working, I started writing. I used a plug in for my browser to write the post and the internet connection got wonky just before I had to leave. I thought it had published…but I was wrong. And the draft didn’t get saved either.

Ok, that’s pretty boing. It’s happened to most writers, bloggers, at one time or another. My step-sister lost half her thesis due to a computer malfunction in college. I’ve lost pages here and there, but never anything major. And let me tell you, what I wrote last week, was nothing major. The first part was all about work. I could write another long essay about work today too.

Suffice it to say that things are going pretty well. It’s still a challenge. I’m feeling my way with the interpersonal relationships and my new semi-managerial role. I am overall much happier but that doesn’t mean I’ve been happy all the time.  I had a difficult situation with a coworker that left me feeling quite anxious for a few days.  It’s resolved now and I am trying to use it as a learning experience. It’s one of those things where he was so obviously wrong and I was so obviously right that it would be easy to just say it was all his fault and I did nothing wrong. However, I am trying to reflect on ways I could’ve handled things better—how did I contribute to the situation? I don’t know that I really have any answers yet, but I’m trying not to blame him for everything that went wrong—that might be the most important part.

What else? I had the flu a couple of weeks ago and it really knocked me out. I did nothing for over a week (except working from my sofa—and watching lots of movies and knitting), and my knee rehab took a big set back. I am mostly back to where I was, so that’s something of a relief.  I had a slight illness relapse this week—but at least I kept up my exercises. Sigh. I am tired of being sick and and inactive. I have to take it easy though and ramp up the physical activity slowly so I don’t wear myself out. So annoying. I’ve done it before and I can do it again…but I don’t like it.

One of the truisms about exercise is that the best kind is the kind you like. I realized that’s my problem with PT. I really hate doing some of the exercises (not only the hard ones), but others I don’t mind. That’s what makes compliance so difficult. I’m going to talk to my PT finding exercises I don’t mind as much and seeing if we can find equivalents for the ones I hate.

And dating. Zero dating news. While I would like to get out there, meet people, have dates, find a boyfriend, etc. I sort of feel like I don’t have the time or energy for it. I’m too busy sleeping (aka recovering), working, or knitting to spare much focus for boys. Not that I’m not constantly on the look out! I just realized that there is ONE single guy at work. He might have a girlfriend, he could be gay, and he’s certainly much younger than me me—but I was sure giving him the apprasing eye at a meeting the other day. Not that I’ll do anything about it since he’s junior staff and may start working on my project—and that would be awkward and inappropriate. Still, I’m not dead yet. Heh.

Ok, now I will do some “real” work. 

Grateful for: generally, being in a happy place.

Wow, wow, wow!

I got the informal approval for my leave today.

I sent TR the paragraph he requested. It was longer than a paragraph and more full of complementary self-referential language than anything I've ever written. When I sent it, the subject line of the email was, "greatness revealed."

Oh, I can't help myself. Here's what I wrote (with work-specific info redacted):

For personal reasons, [Jamy Barab] has requested a six-month leave without pay. [Jamy] has a variety of interests she wishes to pursue during her leave and she feels it is the appropriate time in her career to take this time off from work. Upon her return, she will complete her outstanding assignments.

[Jamy] brings valuable skills that range from the mundane (explaining the ins and outs of Word) to the highly technical (implementing complex statistical analyses). [Jamy] is a particularly valuable employee because of her combination of technical skills, writing ability and flexibility. [Jamy] has never turned down an assignment and excels in bringing otherwise difficult projects to happy conclusions.

In recent years, [Jamy]'s writing skills have come to the forefront. [Jamy] is particularly skilled at writing in a clear and accessible style, which is essential for our reports since they are of interest to non-technical (lay) audiences.

It cannot be emphasized enough how important writing is to our work in [this office]. It is almost impossible to train staff to write, so while we highly value [Jamy] for her technical skills and flexibility, it may be her ability to write that is most valuable.

On the technical front, [Jamy] is conversant with most forms of multivariate regression and does her best to keep apprised of methodological innovations. She has received training in Event History Calendar data collection methods and Event History Analysis methods since beginning her work at [the Department]. She has stayed current with SAS training and is proficient in SPSS as well. She also attends the professional meetings of the [appropriate professional association] and fosters an important link between our world and academia.

In addition to methodological skills, [Jamy] brings in-depth knowledge of many [of this department's] programs. She started her tenure [here] because of her interest in the [major well-known] program and has stayed-up-to-date with that program. Along the way, she has become expert or semi-expert in the following program areas: [list of 14 programs!].

[Jamy]is often called to consult on special issues for program offices. She regularly reviews and comments in detail on the [annoying boutique program] report. She assisted in the assembly of an OMB package for a survey in [tiny southern county] and, in that case, helped design the survey and analyze the final data. Recently, she was asked to review the [interesting boutique program] NOFA [translation: notice of funding availability--like an RFP for public entities] due to inclusion of research requirements. She is also advising [enormous unfunded program] staff on the best approach to improve their data collection.

While it might be possible to hire someone with a skill set as valuable as [Jamy]'s, it would take considerably more than six months to get that person working at her capacity. It is also unlikely that we would find someone with just these same, particularly valuable, skills.

Ahem.

Yesterday, my potential sublettor became my actual sublettor.

I think this might actually happen.

I can't believe it.

I'm overwhelmed and very, very, very happy.

I'm so happy!

And you know, I'm going to kick some ass at this job in the next two months. Ironic, no?

More later, but I had to share.

Grateful for: my great good luck.

The Greatest

Yesterday, TR sent me an email asking if I would take first crack at writing a paragraph justifying my need for a leave of absence. In fed-speak it's "LWOP" aka "leave without pay." Did you know that "AWOL" is also a classification for fed employees? Kinda cool in a nerdy way.

He said he would do it if I didn't feel comfortable but he thought I should put my "writing talents to good effect." Now, I don't know if you can resist such flattery, but I certainly can't. Ideally, he'd write it but this is better. I can write the first draft and then he can add all the flattering/embarrassing stuff later.

He stopped by the office a little later and we joked a bit and he said, "I know I'll have to add the good stuff, but I'm afraid I might forget something so I thought you could take the first crack."

We also talked about the justification. When TR took his leave/rotation many years ago, the reason was that his wife wanted to move back to their home state. That's easy. Saying to want to go live in Paris for six-months just 'cause isn't quite as compelling.

I said, "Can we just say that I need to take time for personal reasons and this is the right time in my career to do it?"

"Yes, that's good. Make it so they won't ask about the why."

"It's not really their business anyway. We don't need to tell them I'm hanging out in Europe!" And then I made TR uncomfortable, "I could be going on a world-wide sperm donor search! It's not for them to know!"

TR laughed uncomfortably. "Heh. NO!"

I said, "Hmm. That doesn't sound right. Sounds like I'm whoring around. Not exactly me."

"Um. NO COMMENT."

Right. Let the inappropriate workplace behavior begin!

After he left, I started drafting the paragraph. I had these guidelines:

(a) Explain why you need the LWOP and how you expect it to refresh you for a return to the department in 6 months

(b) List out your talents and experience that are especially valuable to this office (basically justifying why we should hold your full-time position)

This is what came out:

Why I am the greatest employee ever

How can I explain my greatness? It is so vast, words can hardly do it justice. Why would someone as great as I am need time to "refresh"? Sadly, even one as great as I can be subject to burn out. But, my talents will not be wasted! I will use the time off to pursue greatness in other areas. My outside greatness will only bring future greatness to this humble work place.

I didn't quite get around to answering (b) because I was so amused. I know, I'll have to write a real response to this question soon. I can't explain where all that "greatness" talk came from. I think I'm fine and all but I don't need to shout about it, I figure you can come to your own conclusions after you get to know me or see me at work.

But, if you've ever seen Muhammad Ali speak--seen him boast and brag--you have to agree that there is something charming and exhilarating about it. And, in a way, my request for leave is along those lines. Aren't I saying, "I'm so good, you'll hold a place for me"? You'll save my spot because it will be so hard to find someone as good as me and it's worth it to you to take the hit. And, whatever the hell I plan to do, even if it's not designed to further the skills that I bring to this job, it is still worth it because it's what I want and you have to respect that--because you want me--because I'M SO GREAT.

Ha! I AM the greatest.

Grateful for: confidence.

I did it

I've walked around slightly elated for the last two days, listening to music on the ipod (rather than podcasts) and knowing why I'd lost some sabbatical enthusiasm. Guilt. I was carrying around a lot of guilt about the decision to leave the job--specifically guilt over the obligation to the two men in my work life: TR and Larry.

I wanted to write immediately, the instant I told TR, but I didn't. I'm not sure why it reminds of the night I went out, alone, for a drink to celebrate the completion of my PhD (I had a party later, but this was the day I got the final word and knew it was 100% done). I wanted to buy a round for the bar, but I was too shy to do it.

I was too shy to write that I told TR I wanted time off and got the best possible reaction: dismay, bewilderment, acceptance, understanding, encouragement and appreciation. It couldn't have gone much better if I planned it, which, despite non-stop mulling, I hadn't actually done. Well, I did plan, but I didn't script, so I wasn't sure how, exactly I would convey the message, "it's not you, it's me." Because even though it is, sort of, TR, that's not at all the point.

I was in there on Tuesday, talking to TR about something (probably condo stuff), as is my won't. I wasn't planning on telling him then, but I was nervous, anxious and feeling the burden of my secret. So I said, "Are you working on anything important?"

He said, "No."

I said, "I need to talk to you about something."

TR said, "Should we close the door?" I was already on my way there.

I assured him it had nothing to do with Mandy (that situation is resolved). I said, "I've been unhappy with the job for a long time. I need to take some time off to pursue personal interests. I also need the job to change. I'm not giving it my best and I'm not happy about that. I'm also not happy about how we get along, but that's not the real issue." And on like that.

TR listened, nodded and said, "I'm the right person to talk to about taking a leave!" Since he, early in his career, left our department and came back a few years later. We also talked about what other kind of work I could do around here, if I should move to a different division, or even work on detail for another organization for a while. It was good. It was clear that he values me and wants me to come back. He seemed to understand. He made a joke about me writing the "great American novel." I said, "I may or may not actually write a novel, but I want to try."

Obviously, I don't need to quit my job or take time off to write a novel. But I need to take time off. I don't care if I don't do any writing at all! That's the idea--to write. But the real idea is to get away from here and have some different experiences. To get out of the DC routine and into another, novel (heh), routine. Hell, if I spend most of my time reading novels and going to the movies I'll consider it a well-spent six-to-twelve months, but, yes, I plan to write too.

TR is gone for the rest of the week (traveling for work) and has left me in charge. Oh, irony, how I love thee.

The next day, Larry (old boss), came by and stood in my office door. Looking at me, silently. Finally, he said, "TR told me you wanted to take some time off...I don't know what to say."

I said, "Um, yeah, um. I...I don't know what to say..."

He said, "No, you don't have to talk about it..."

I said, "No! I want to...I just. I wanted to talk to you about it. I just need some time away."

He said, "You're really good at this."

I said, "But I'm not engaged any more. I can't make deadlines. I like to think that I still do good quality work, but there's really no excuse for how long it takes me to finish things."

Larry nodded grimly. We talked a while longer but he never stopped looking lost and unhappy. You should have seen the expression on his face. So sad! I swear, I thought he might cry.

I tell you what, it makes me extremely grateful that TR is now my "boss." (He's not the boss of me!) I don't think I could have quit on Larry, ever. We have such a tight boss-worker bond. I don't think I'll ever feel that way about someone again and perhaps it's just as well. It's part of why there's so much emotion around this decision. As I said to Larry, it's not just a job. It's my only job. It's the only real, professional job I've ever had and I have a lot of identity tied up with it. My job goes a long way towards identifying me to other people, if not to myself, and even when I've hated it, I've managed to give a good impression about it to the outside world. Many people think I love my job. I've convinced many others that it's important. I don't know that it isn't. I do know that it's sucking the life out of me and I have to get out--at least for a while.

I want to write some more about work, career choices and the boxes we put ourselves in, but that will have to wait until tomorrow because I'm going to a g-ddamn happy hour now if it kills me.

Grateful for: TR. Who knew?

Back to the grind

Today, the first day back at work in a week, was deadly mediocre. Almost right off the bat, I snapped at TR AND Larry (old boss). I was complaining about a distant employee who asked me to fax him a document that he first requested in 2005. Obviously, I'd faxed it to him back then and, today, I found the document in my files with the fax cover sheet and date "5/2/2005" marked on it. I faxed it to the dude who didn't apologize for his error--but he did thank me. Annoying!

Anyway, I decide to complain a bit to TR and Larry walks in so I tell them both the story, in my typical animated fashion. Their reaction? "Don't be angry!" "Calm down!" "Let it go!" "Nothing to be done!" Chortle, chortle, chortle. Look, I wasn't angry, per se, more frustrated. I wanted to vent--these two vent all the time! I kind of let them have it, "You can't express an emotion around here without being told to calm down! Don't tell me how to feel! I'm just venting! It's not like I called [the dude] and yelled at him--that's why I'm talking to you!" And I stomped into my office.

Great start. Someone needs to get out of here, no?

Plus, I was assigned to co-lead a project with Mandy. No, I don't think so. She can do it on her own or I'll take it but no way am I working with her. We did it together last year because my jury duty interfered with my being in sole charge. I didn't enjoy working with her then and after all that mess around my birthday, I'm not going to do it now. I emailed the person coordinating this and said I thought it was a one person job and Mandy can have it if she wants it. He replied and cc'd her. Nice. No word back from Mandy yet. Wonder how that will wash out!

I also had another round with my condo-mates. I'm trying to resign from my position of treasurer in anticipation of my "sabbatical." (Can I stop using the quotes? Is it really happening?) I wrote to them over a week ago telling them about my departure. No response. Today I wrote and said I'd be resigning as of April 15th. The two responses were as follows:

Response #1: Can we talk about looking into an outside management company? I would love to help out but I'm at work 90% of the time and I'm fearful I won't be able to commit myself to the position of treasurer. It seems that we are all stretched very thin, and that this has been problematic in arranging meetings and new positions in the past. Any thoughts on this? Of course majority rules so I will go with whatever the majority wants.

Response #2: An outside company might have to be the solution. With teaching full time and a new baby I am already stressed to the max.

They are unclear on the concept. We need a treasurer NO MATTER WHAT. Let's say we hire an outside property manager (fairly foolish for a four-unit building, but whatever). We'd need to pay them, so we'd still have to manage a bank account. Plus, we'd have to AUDIT them, to make sure they are paying the bills correctly, not overcharging us, etc. So, even if we could off-load the maintenance, we still need a treasurer and a president and a secretary, etc., just as our bylaws require.

My response was a long-ish email where I stated:

1. It would probably increase our fees by 50 to 100 percent to hire an outside company.
2. I was not available to research, hire or manage such a company.
   
3. The exact treasurer duties and the time it takes to carry them out (about two hours per month).
4. That we need a treasurer even if we hire a property manager. Duh.
   

Lord, I hate these people. Ok, not hate, but I'm fed up with them. I went to tell TR. I didn't tell him why I was trying to resign and, luckily, he's not a terribly inquisitive person.

I said, "I'm trying to resign as treasurer of my condo association."

He laughed.

I gave him the details.

He said, "Basically, once you're treasurer, you can't resign. Remember Greg (a retired colleague)? He was treasurer of the fitness center here and he couldn't get out of it until he retired!"

I sighed. TR went home. I really need to tell him my plan. I'm nervous.

How can I continue to be treasurer? I refuse! How can someone use a full time job and/or a baby as an excuse not to take on such a relatively simple job? The third condo-mate who didn't respond coordinated all the most recent building repairs, so she is exempt. The two that did reply? As far as I know, the lady who is stressed to the max hasn't lifted a finger around the place--EVER. Is two hours a month too much to ask? Puh-leez! Can you blame me for hating them?

I need a new attitude.

Oh: one piece of good news. I have a prospective sublettor coming by the house tonight. He's a friend of mine and it would be PERFECT if this worked out. Wish me luck!

Grateful for: responsibility.

Home sweet home

My last day in St. Louis went well. I walked a couple of miles from my hotel to the Anheuser-Busch brewery and took the tour. Definitely worth the time.

I took a bus back from there and just rode it for a while, through downtown and up to the Central West End. When we got to a light rail station, I transferred to the train and stopped at Union Station for coffee. Walked back to the hotel and picked up my luggage, got back on the light rail and rode it to the end of the line (the airport).

All in all, the trip went well. I learned a few things, hopefully did well enough on the test to get my certificate (the three courses I took in this series are rewarded by a certificate that may or may not be valuable/meaningful/respected), and met some interesting people. I plan to get in touch with the other DC resident who was in my group.

The flight home was uneventful. I had to wait half an hour for the super shuttle, but I was the first stop! That never happens. I was home by midnight and felt totally up and awake as soon as I walked in the door. I knit on a sock for a while and didn't get to bed until 2am.

Saturday, I just lazed around. It was so gorgeous, though, that even lazy old me felt compelled to go outside. I took my huge book and hoofed it to the bank where I deposited the condo fees (finally!). (Aside: You know, I wrote to my condo-mates over a week ago, telling them someone would need to take over as treasurer. No replies. I have to give them a deadline next, I think. Stupid treasurer duties.)

I walked a few more blocks to one of my local coffee shops. It's amazing that I now have four decent coffee shops in easy walking distance of my house (15-minutes or less). When I moved in five years ago, the number was zero. I drank coffee, ate a muffin and sat in the front window reading my book. After an hour of that and I headed home.

I feel guilty because I skipped soccer clinic on Saturday evening AND I skipped going to a birthday get-together. I complain about having too few friends and then I don't take full advantage of my social opportunities. I guess I can give myself a break if all I wanted to do was stay home after a week out of town and insufficient sleep the first night back--but still. I wish I could have overcome my inertia and dragged myself to soccer clinic at least. I work like crazy and always feel elated afterwards. I need to get back to the goddamn gym. Soooo lazy!

Today was the last indoor soccer game--the first round play-off game, which we lost. We had a lousy season but I enjoyed it. Friendly group, though we didn't really "gel." We have rounded up an outdoor 7-on-7 coed team, but could use more players. If you're interested, let me know. If I do go to Paris, I'll only be able to play about half the season. And I'm sure we'll always need subs.

Tomorrow, it's back to work and the regular routine. I'm planning to talk to TR this week about my leave of absence. My stomach does flips flops whenever I think about it, but I know it's the right thing. I need to get out of there. I need a break, a change. The change is more important than it's exact form. When I talk to TR, I'll be more committed. That is good.

Grateful for: home.

Much better

Since I'm trying to pay attention in class (it's hard, because we have our computers and wifi and, thus, infinite ways to distract ourselves), I'll just give a quick run down of how things are going well in St. Louis.

My "table group" is a friendly, age-diverse, and I like them all. One woman, Sarah, is from DC, lives in my neighborhood, works in my general field (for a non-profit), knits and has a BA in my grad school field. Kind of cool--it's possible that I have a new friend, but I'm not counting my chickens.

After the first day of class, another table-mate, Sandi, took me to Walgreens in her rented car. I stocked up on all necessary items and lots of snacks--enough so that I won't have to buy breakfast again.

We also found a part of downtown that was actually open at night and had a nice dinner. Sandi is what you might call an "over-sharer" but lively and interesting and I enjoyed our conversation.

Last night, the table-mates and I went out to dinner at Cunetto's, at Seth's suggestion. Thank you Seth!

I'm a little slower at the course this time than when I took part two in 2005 (yeesh), but I'm muddling through. This is the third and final course in the series. I took the first one in 2003. To my credit, I got 100% in the first two classes. But I'm not expecting that this time. It's now computerized--electronic spreadsheets instead of paper, and I'm playing catch up.

Overall, I'm enjoying my time. I'm meeting people, talking lots, having plenty of alone time and actually learning stuff. Next step: tourist attractions!

Grateful for: time away.

St. Louis hates me

Here's a list of what went wrong:

1. No food--not even peanuts on the flight.
2. No open restaurants near the hotel.
3. Chain restaurant meal.
4. No drugstores/groceries in walking distance of the hotel.
5. Lost credit card.
6. Broken hotel key card.
7. Rude/indifferent customer service.

What went right:

1. Timing of journey to BWI.
2. Actual flight.
3. Trip from STL airport to hotel.
4. HBO in room.
5. Replacement credit card will get to me by Wednesday.

What went right shall not be discussed in detail.

Here are the details:

1. I don't expect to get fed any more, especially if it's only a two-hour flight. But I would expect that a two-hour flight smack dab in the middle of the day would provide a snack. Now, if end up on a tiny regional jet, like yesterday, I lower my expectations to peanuts, pretzels or other tiny, salty snack. Silly me. On this flight, you could get a free soft drink and that was it. If you wanted your tiny salty snack, you had to pay for it. Oy.
   
   The flight went well, even though it was a windy day. It did take longer than usual due to a headwind. Fine--headwinds actually make the flight smoother (I think), so I was fine. Not air sick or scared. I was going to try the flight sans-Dramamine, but as soon as we boarded, I popped a pill, which led to napping. Good.
   
   Landing was easy. Finding the metro was easy. Trip to the hotel was simple.
   
   After I got settled, I went for a walk. As soon as I started moving, I realized I was starving. Small breakfast plus no lunch will do that. Thank goodness I'd grabbed a coffee in the airport.



2. I walked and walked, in the general direction of Leclede's Landing. I passed through the court district, directly adjacent to my hotel. I saw the federal building, the St. Louis police academy, the civil courts, the town hall. But no shops, no restaurants and no people. Not too remarkable on a Sunday, but still.
   
   I kept going and caught glimpses of the new baseball stadium and the arch. The arch is very pretty. Stadium looks nice from the outside--all red brick and Camden Yards-esque.
   
   Still, no people. Some restaurants, all closed, many posting hours like, "M-F, 9am-1:30pm". Yikes. No shops.
   
   I need to buy something from a drugstore. In my totally disorganized packing rush, I left out a few vital toiletries of the type easily attainable at any local or major chain drugstore or grocery store. None can be found in downtown. I'm not looking for a grocery, of course, but no drugstores at all? Really? No. Sigh.



3. I might have walked a mile, though it felt like more, and I found an "Irish pub" in a hotel. I went in and realized that it was just like Fado in DC. Ok, fine. As chains go, it's not bad, though hardly authentic. I had a beer and a burger and felt better.



4. I asked both the server and the hotel clerk for a drugstore and got referred to the closed nearby convenience store or a Walgreen's five miles away. Nice.
   
   I walked down to Leclede's landing. Populated only by restaurants! I've never paid such close attention to retail mix in my life.
   
   I noticed a light rail station (Metrolink) nearby and decided to go back to the hotel. I was tired from flying and my minimal walk. Instead of going straight back to the hotel, I went one extra stop and exited at Union Station--a beautiful former train station. No drugstores either! But a very overpriced hotel-affiliated "convenience" store where I got a small amount of the necessary items. When I said something to the clerk about the lack of drugstores, she again mentioned the Walgreens. When I said I didn't have a car, she smirked. Nice.



5. On my way out, I realized that I did not have my credit card. I'd left it at the Irish pub. Whoops. I kept the receipt, so I called them. They searched but could not find my card. They asked, "Are you sure you don't have it?"
   
   I was sure. And pissed.
   
   I bought some chocolate. The clerk was very friendly as I inappropriately regaled her with my tail of (minor) woes. She gave me directions to the Walgreens via bus.



6. I walked the few blocks back to the hotel. You have to use a key card to access the elevator. Mine wasn't working. A hotel employee noticed my efforts and jumped in the elevator with me, "Don't force it!"
   
   "I'm not forcing it." (I wasn't.)
   
   He took me to get the card reset. The desk clerk said, "Did you have this next to a credit card?"
   
   "No. It was in my pocket."

Geez. What is wrong with this town? Everything was my fault! Except, none of it was.

The first employee rode up in the elevator with me and I complained about the lack of drugstores. He said, "Do you need a prescription? We can help you with that and get it delivered."

I said, "No, I don't need drugs. I need personal items. It's ok. I'll go tomorrow."

Back in the room, I collapsed. Completely exhausted from all the non-events of the day.

The phone rang, "Jamy?" (He used the diminutive form of my real name. Odd.)

"Yes?"

"We can take you to Walgreen's to get your prescription."

I said, "I don't need a prescription. I have to buy something."

He said, "Oh. Well, um, maybe we can get you a ride anyway. I'll call you back."

"Ok." I hung up and hoped he wouldn't call back. He didn't and I was glad.

Then, I turned on HBO and watched the series finale of The Wire and slept poorly.

However, today has been much better. Not too much can go wrong when you spend the entire day in a windowless hotel ballroom. Let's just hope I can stay on St. Louis's good side from here on out.

Grateful for: HBO.

My, my

Did I mention that I'll be out of town next week?

Did I mention that I'm going out of my mind?

It's so hard to fully, internally commit to Paris. I love my apartment (house, condo, whatever you call it) SO MUCH that I hate the idea of leaving that physical space. Yet, if I just quit and stick around (as opposed to leaving town), I will stagnate. But it makes me so sad to think of leaving my little homey space. (It merely makes me feel guilty to think of leaving my job. Bah, guilt, could you let up just this once? I'm starting to feel like the perpetrator of a stealth break up--you know the one where one day the husband wakes up and says, "I can't stay in this marriage. I don't love you. I don't think I ever loved you." And the wife is all WTF?!?! (I know someone to whom this actually happened--ouch). I keep imagining the shocked look on TR's face when I tell him what I'm thinking about. Or maybe he'll be relieved. That would be a blow to the ego!!)

Anyway, work has been busy and I'm not good at multitasking when it comes to writing. I've been writing for work. So, I write a little, read a little, edit a little, write a little. Somehow, the blog doesn't fit.

Could someone please tell me, though, how do you manage the sabbatical arrangements? How do I make this happen? Do I really want to make it happen. I know it would be hard at first. Or maybe it would be easy at first and hard later. So many things would change. I'd leave Tabitha with a friend, I think that's best for both of us...but the thought of being all alone in a little Paris garret (ah, the romance) with out even a kitty to keep me company...it's sad. And she's not very good company and I don't usually miss her much when I'm away from home. But I think I was lonelier without her and that might be even worse.

Still, gallivanting around Europe on all my fun side trips will be much easier without a cat dependent. So, anyone need a cat for 6 months to a year? (I have a place for her already, but it's not local. Locals should feel free to volunteer.)

Ah, right, so, next week: St. Louis. Anyone been there recently? Any must sees? I'll be inside all day, most of the day, training, but I'm sure I'll have a few free moments to look around. I've been there once and didn't go up in the Arch. This time, I'm going!

Ok, it's way too late to write, so I'll stop and post.

I loved all your six-word life stories, by the way. I demand more!

Grateful for: writing.

Obsessed

My day was spent about 50% on work and 50% on Paris research. Yet, I only have work to show for it and no Paris apartment. How's that obsession working out for me? Well, it sure makes the day go faster....

(Unanswered questions: should I apply for a long-stay visa? Should I try for a year sabbatical instead of six months? Should I try to take a language class at the Sorbonne instead of a commercial language school? Semi-answered questions: I know where to get travel medical insurance. Whoop-dee-doo!)

Got in touch with Spesh and told him that our semi-plan to meet on the West Coast for Passover was off (the timing conflicts with my Paris reconnoiter). He was thrilled at the prospect of me moving to Paris! It was great to get that reaction from him. Then he immediately made a connection for me with a woman he knows who lives in Paris who needs to sublet her place. Odds are it won't work out but it's a great idea.

Last and totally (mostly) unrelated, my blog-friend, Billy, at Living the Romantic Comedy had a good post the other day where he talks about this project where people write their life stories in six words. I couldn't resist trying it out in Billy's comments:

First try: Too much school, still not married.

Ugh!

Second try: Great boring job, moving to Paris!

That's more like it.

Please share your six-word life stories in the comments! I'll post some of your stories later this week.

Grateful for: distraction and Spesh.

Politeness

Remember back in December when I went up to New Jersey for a wedding and (sort of) caused my uncle to miss his son's (my cousin's) wedding ceremony?

Well, before going to the wedding, I bought the couple a rather expensive gift. My soon-to-be cousin-in-law sent me a nice thank you note almost immediately upon receipt. It's funny to get a thank you for wedding gift before the actual wedding, but it's perfectly proper and thoughtful.

After that, as you know, I went to the wedding. And missed the ceremony. I hung around for picture taking and went to the luncheon. After the luncheon, we went to the newlyweds' house and hung out there for a while. I enjoyed meeting the folks I didn't know and I had a good time.

Perhaps a week after I got back to DC, I got another thank you note from my now official cousin-in-law, thanking me for coming to the wedding and spending time with them.

I have to say, pretty classy, especially considering that they could have been rightly annoyed with me for screwing up the arrival of the father-of-the-groom. I've always liked my cousin's (now) wife and I do now more than ever.

In light of my little dust up with Mandy this week, it's good to keep the highest forms of courtesy in mind. In consultation with Mom and partially at her suggestion, on Thursday I left Mandy a thank you note for the flowers and candy. Honestly, I did not want to say "thank you" to her face. Something about the whole situation was terribly embarrassing and awkward. Mom actually provided the words for the card, which I used with only slight modification.

After she got the card, Mandy put her head in my office and said, "Thanks for the note! I wasn't sure if you'd like that kind of candy...if you like dark chocolate."

I said, "All chocolate is good."

Guess never speaking to her again is out, though I may limit myself to incomplete sentences. Heh. That would be amusing if I could pull it off. ("All chocolate good" or "Chocolate good. Mmmm.")

Last, step one of "Operation Paris" is complete: I purchased a plane ticket for a one-week visit in late April. It's a big step but since taking a sabbatical will involve something like a hundred steps, I don't feel too overwhelmed. If anything, I'm a little numb. But, if nothing else, I'm going to Paris in April! That's a decent vacation, indeed. Step two may be finding a place to stay for that week...which will depend on whether Mom is actually coming with me....

You know what step two will be? Telling the condo-mates they need to pick a new treasurer! That will be awesome even if I don't actually go anywhere.

Happy weekending, everyone. Mine, as usual, will involve a lot of soccer, some knitting and, as an extra special treat, dim sum on Saturday!

Grateful for: politeness and calm.

Gone

What a difference a day makes!

The rest of my birthday went rather well. I got a couple of calls from Dad (missed all of them, unfortunately). After work, I went to a knitting group and had a beer (we knit at a bar—awesome, right?). I didn't remind them that it was my birthday and it was a stress-free and pleasant way to spend a couple of hours. When I got home, I had a message from my brother in NJ (B1)—well, not just from B1, but from the whole family! They all sang a non-traditional happy birthday song and then each kid said a personal, "Happy Birthday Aunt [Jamy], I love you!" Aww. That might be the cure for everything.

I settled in to watch an episode of "The Wire," eat the cake Nancy brought me and do a little more knitting on the never-ending-scarf for Dad. (Current scarf progress: 62 inches! 8-10 more inches and I'm DONE and it will only be one-two weeks late. Not too shabby.) All in all, it wasn't a bad day. I could have lived without the Mandy drama, but at least the good stuff helped balance it out.

Surprisingly, when I walked into my office this morning, a box of Trader Joe's Non-Pareil's was sitting on my chair and a vase of tulips was on my desk. A tiny post-it on the candy let me know they were from Mandy, "Happy Birthday [Jamy]! May you have a wonderful year ahead!" Huh.

This is the deal with Mandy: she's thoughtless and selfish and the result can be slights and exclusions. However, I never thought she was acting out of overt hatred or maliciousness. That's ascribing way too much intent to her narrow way of functioning in the world. If I knew that yesterday, then why did I have such a strong reaction? Because it's a pattern of behavior over several years and it was too damn much to swallow easily on my birthday. Fortunately, I'm not walking around actively hating her all the time. What a drag that would be!

In the past, I've complained to Diego about Mandy (he used to work here and knows the drill). He always says, "Don't get so upset. You're better off not having to go to her things anyway." Of course, he's right but it still rankled. I felt the sting of the insult.

However, in the clear light of day, I'm not angry anymore. I'm a little amused at the lengths Mandy's gone to "redeem" herself and I seriously wonder if she knows why I was upset. But I do not feel the need at all (amusingly, a need I felt quite keenly yesterday) to give her a piece of my mind or set her straight. I'm sure it would do her no good and it wouldn't make me feel better.

What I haven't done yet, and desperately need to, is thank her for the chocolate and flowers. She made an effort and I need to acknowledge it. After that, I will discharge myself of all but the most basic need to be civil to her. I'll also be grateful that I don't have to deal with too many people like her.

Grateful for: a new day.

Pathos

I've been trying to stifle the urge to write a whiny post all day. You know, I was often accused of being whiny and overly sensitive as a kid (mostly in the under-10 years). I thought I'd outgrown that stuff. Oh well.

Sometimes I forget how sensitive I am. I'm so busy putting up a strong front and trying to get people not to worry about me—and leave me alone!—that I'm surprised when a seemingly meaningless slight infuriates me and makes me want to cry.

As you may have inferred from yesterday's post, today is my birthday (thank you in advance). I didn't plan anything because I had a little celebration on Saturday. I've gotten some presents and many "happy birthday" wishes. I am feeling a little old this year and stressed because of all my work issues so I can't say it's the happiest birthday ever but it's not terrible. I'm fine.

Then, this morning, I'm sitting at my desk and it become clear that some folks have plans to go somewhere together. I ask my officemate, "Where are you going?"

He said, "We're going to [X] museum—they're having some free food. You were on the email, weren't you?"

"No," I said, "I didn't get that email."

"Oh. Well, we're going at 11. You should come."

I was immediately angry—not at him, but at the woman who organized the outing. Mandy. I know I've mentioned Mandy before, though I can't remember what name I used. She has a habit of organizing happy hours and parties and not inviting me. Nina (my work friend) is usually invited and has asked if I'm attending these events on occasion, assuming that I'm invited too. It has always hurt my feelings that I'm not included, even though I don't like Mandy. (I always give her the courtesy invite to events to which I ask work-friends.) Still, as long as I don't know about these events (I asked Nina not to mention them to me and she's been good about respecting that boundary), I'm not bothered. Out of sight, out of mind.

But today was a different story. It's my goddamn birthday and Mandy organizes an outing for people in my division, including my officemate, and doesn't bother to invite me? Out of pure politeness, I invited her to my birthday get-together on Saturday. She came, thanked me, and enjoyed herself. She knows that my birthday is this week—perhaps she didn't know it was today—still, still, it was just too much.

After I figured out what was happening, I stuck my head in her office and said, "So you're going to the [X] museum? I didn't get the email."

She said, "Oh. Sorry."

That's it. Off they went. I was standing next to TR and as soon as they left, I practically shouted at him, "I can't believe it! She didn't even invite me and it's MY BIRTHDAY. That's fucked up! I'm so done with her. I've had it!"

He said, "I know. I'm sorry. Let me take you to lunch."

I stomped into my office, still muttering about the rudeness of it all, hoping to calm down. I sent an email to Nancy and my mom. Both were sympathetic and agreed that it was a particularly insensitive thing to do on my birthday.

Later, TR took me and the new office temp to lunch. I still felt lousy but it was a nice gesture.

Honestly, I don't need people to make a fuss over my birthday. If you forget, it won't hurt my feelings. But if you are needlessly cruel and insensitive, then it will hurt my feelings, tremendously in fact.

After they all got back, Danielle (not the offending party!) came into my office to apologize. It's her birthday on Thursday and Mandy is organizing a lunch for her. Danielle thought I hadn't been invited to that. I was invited. I explained to Danielle why I was upset. I felt even worse because, while Danielle and I aren't best buddies, she's unfailing polite and never, ever unkind.

As it turns out, Danielle has similar issues with Mandy—which must really suck because they share an office. In fact, Danielle demanded a telework day from our old boss for the sole purpose of getting time away from Mandy. Geez. At least it's not just me.

Then I sat around wondering how long it would be before Mandy came to apologize.

(In case you're wondering, I hadn't said anything to Mandy or Danielle, so how did they know I was upset? Probably my tone of voice and body language before they left. I'm very easy to read.)

I hoped Mandy wouldn't apologize because I was in no mood to forgive her. My mother had this to say, "You don't need to pretend to forgive her. If she apologizes, you can say you hear her and thank her—if she apologizes for her actions rather than the way you feel." Good point, Mom!

Right before she left for the day, Mandy comes up to me and says, "I'm so sorry. I meant to get you flowers but I didn't have time. I didn't mean anything by it. Happy Birthday."

I said, "Ok. Thanks." And smiled grimly.

I wonder, does she know what she apologized for? Ideally, I'd never speak to her again but it's hard for me to be that rude. At the least, I'm going to keep our interactions to a minimum from now on. No more courtesy invites, either.

I sure wish this didn't bother me so much. I feel overwhelmed and still a little teary. Dammit.

Ok, time to put on a happy-birthday-face. Smile!

Grateful for: perspective.

Where did it go?

Last week, I was still angry at TR and feeling the full force of my frustration. At home, I scratched Miss Tabitha's head and said, "We're going to Paris."

I called my mother, told her the plan and invited her to go to Paris with me for a week in April to reconnoiter and choose a neighborhood and maybe find an apartment. (Mom speaks French and should be an asset if she doesn't fold under the pressure.)

On Saturday night, I was downright (upright?) buoyant as I drove from soccer practice to home to rush-rush prepare to meet a few friends for a birthday celebration (mine: actual birthday is on Tuesday).

I was still feeling good and enthused (and exhausted) on Sunday, before and after my soccer game.

This morning, I woke feeling nothing but exhausted. I read all your comments. Blog readers are 100% in agreement that I should to go Paris.

But the bloom is off the rose. I'm not saying I don't want to go but at this precise moment, I'm not feeling it.

I come to work and see TR for the first time in a week. I tell him a new idea (new to him!) I have for a project and he's almost startled. Is it that hard to believe that I have ideas? No, of course not. He dumps/gives me a bunch of work and I laze around all day and nibble at it. I want to like my job. I want to be good at this work. I fear—nay—I'm sure it will never happen. Well, I like to think I'm good and I know what I'm doing, but the excitement will never be there. Never was there.

Yet it's so damn comfortable. My house is so cozy. How will I decide which things to trash and which to save? How will I convince someone to take over treasurer duties at the condo? Should I try and refinance the mortgage now? All this stuff to decide and plan. And I can do it. As soon as I make the first decision (to go or not to go), the rest will fall in line and won't be that difficult. I'm a person of action after I make the first decision. Pretty much everything I've every decided to do, I've done. When I set the plan, I follow through.

I walked home with TR today and he said, "I took what you said to heart." I hemmed and hawed. I wanted to tell him but I couldn't, I didn't. I wanted to get his opinion, as a friend, but I can't. It's the kind of thing I would normally talk to TR about...but I can't. It's not like a regular job--ok, that's not true--but it feels more, I feel more connected to some of the people at this work place than I ever have. TR is, despite my frustration with him, one of my best friends. And even though I was angry at him, he does value me. How could he not? And I'm going to abandon him? Oy. The guilt! I know that's not how this decision gets made. That staying is not good for me. But this sure isn't easy. Sigh.

Grateful for: friendship.

Thinking

The thinking, the thinking, it doesn't seem to end. Right now, I'm leaning strongly towards the option of the 6-12 month sabbatical in Paris. Fo' shizzle.

Ok, so this is how it would work. I would live off my non-retirement savings. Six months would leave me with plenty of savings left over; a year is pushing it. I would take a leave of absence from work and come back to my/a job. When I talk to whoever about leaving, I'll say that I intend to take a sabbatical and I'll also discuss my job dissatisfaction. Thus, we'll all know that I need a change at work when I come back, if I come back. I guess not coming back and finding a new job is an option, but how realistic is it?

Maybe I'll talk to some folks in "industry" and get their read on if I'd be an attractive job candidate after being out of the workforce for six months or more. That's really my main concern with the sabbatical option: my employment prospects afterwards. But it's what I really want to do (I think!).

So, besides doing some work at work today, I spent a bit of time doing the following:

• Pricing flights to Paris in April for a recognizance trip.
• Pricing apartments in Paris starting in June. (Why June and not May? I dunno.)
• Pricing language schools in Paris (um, je ne parle pas français).

The whole "what to do with my condo thing" is a bit of an issue. And actually talking to folks at work about leaving will be awkward to say the least. Tabitha the cat will be coming with me, if at all possible.

Part of why I started thinking more about staying in my job, or at least in my workplace, is because I talked to my father. He seemed to think that I should consider staying. I was surprised. He also wanted me to tread lightly around TR so I would be sure to get a good recommendation. It's highly unlikely that TR would give me a bad recommendation. Work friend Nancy said it would be a real black mark for TR if I leave on his watch. Different perspectives, I guess. I don't know if Dad is worried about my future or likes the idea that I'm making a career where I am.

And, yeah, that's about all that's on my mind. Yeesh.

Grateful for: the chance to make a break.

Quitter

I always leave myself an out but once I've started something, I like to finish. For example, when I started grad school, I made sure my department granted a Master's degree in case I decided to leave before getting my PhD. Of course, I did finish my PhD but a lot of people thought I wasn't ever sure about doing it because I spoke openly about giving myself the option to quit.

I always knew that I was going to finish, because I finish what I start, but I liked having an escape route.

I don't always finish things. I took a couple of incompletes in college that I never completed. Luckily, it didn't ruin my career.

Quitting the rowing team (in grad school) was a difficult decision. After two years and a semester, I decided I needed to focus on my graduate studies. Finishing that MA thesis wasn't going to happen if I kept rowing. That, plus a new and hated coach, helped me decide to end my competitive rowing career.

I have finally decided that I need to quit my job. It's a painful decision.

It's no surprise to long-time readers that I'm not happy with my job. In the very first post I wrote, I mention that unhappiness. Check it:

I'm also grateful for my boss. He is probably the number one reason I like my job at all these days. Did I mention that I hate my job? I'm starting to fantasize about other careers, but it all feel hopeless, and I feel guilty for being so damn UNGRATEFUL because I have such a good job. It pays so well, it's so perfect for me, and it should be interesting. And, then, I go and chat with my boss for half an hour, mostly about work, which is actually enjoyable, and then not about work, which is even more enjoyable, and then I'm awfully glad I'm here because I would hate to ever have to work for anyone else.

Every damn word is still true but now I AM working for someone else (TR). It's a disaster.

Recently, I've picked up the pace a bit, held myself more to account and done a better job. Still, the nature of the work is dull. It's challenging but in a tiresome way. Nothing about the job, the actual tasks, excites me. To be frank, it never did, but while I still had something to learn, it was interesting. I have always enjoyed the learning part of any enterprise, even when what I was learning wasn't exciting. And, even when I don't enjoy the substance of my work, learning the organizational structure of the work place is fascinating. The federal system is awesome in its complexity and figuring out how the wheels turn could be a job in itself--in some ways, it's the most important thing I've learned.

But the breaking point finally came on Friday night. I walked home with TR. Sometimes we talk about work on the walk, but usually in a non-practical way. He'll tell me about a project he's working on that I don't know much about or we'll brainstorm something. This time, I criticized the way he manages (not for the first time) and he told me what a lousy employee I am. Ok, the latter is an exaggeration. However, I walked away feeling furious and disrespected. As though TR doesn't trust me to do a good job and he doesn't respect my professionalism. He thinks I can't do the political stuff and he wants to keep the one big interesting project that was his before the promotion. You know what I want to say to TR? Well, this is a family blog, so I won't say it. But, c'mon. Even if I'm a slacker, it's because I don't have enough work to do. I do all my assignments, professionally and usually on time. If I wanted a non-structured, work more than 40-hours a week gig, I would've gone into academia. I'm here for the structure and it's your role as boss to help give it to me.

Over the years, I've had a number of contracts go wrong--that's because my old boss trusted me with tough assignments. Those projects went RIGHT because of my tact and skill. Did I vent to TR and Larry (old boss) about my problems and frustrations? Sure I did. But I didn't cry or get emotional with the contractors. And I didn't get overwrought with TR or Larry either. I felt free to express myself to my colleagues. I used you as sounding boards so I could figure out the best way to deal directly with the contractors. And, when my extensive discussions and detailed comments couldn't bring in a publishable report, I took the work and did it myself. Think of all the money I saved the government by salvaging unpublishable work--by making sure we didn't just throw away those contract dollars.

No, TR didn't think of that. Instead, he said that I couldn't handle those contractors. That it was some failing of mine that caused those contracts to go wrong. Really. So, if I'd been, what? More TR-like in my approach they would have become better writers? They would have learned how to hit deadlines? They would have actually followed my explicit directions instead of coming back to me later with, "Oh, you did tell me to do that, didn't you? I remember that." After they went ahead and did what I told them NOT to do? I'm sure, TR, that you could have done a much better job. Yet, somehow, in every single project I've had, the good and the bad, we've always had a high-quality report at the end. Does that not mean anything?

Other times, when I tried to take on new tasks, TR stood directly in my way. I mentioned that and he admitted that I was right--that he wouldn't give me the project. But TR said that it was because there wasn't a "good fit" between the clients and me. How did you decide that, TR, when you wouldn't get out of the damn way so I could have a chance at the work? You blocked me and then you blamed me. There was no working together. It was your way or nothing. Even at the time, I knew that you thought my way was wrong and your way was right. But who managed to offend a huge client? It sure wasn't me. My way was fine but you couldn't see that. Even as you admit your fault, you refuse to grant that my way might have worked just as well. That my way might have been better.

The one thing I cannot abide is being patronized or disrespected. TR doesn't know how to be a good boss to me and I can't stand working for him any longer. That, plus a long-standing dislike of my job, make it clear that it's time to go.

With my old boss, I probably would have stayed forever, out of loyalty and guilt. Maybe I should be grateful that TR was such an ass because now I have the push I need to get out.

I haven't decided what I'll do yet--I have lots of options. Apply for public sector jobs in DC, move and get a job elsewhere, take my sabbatical, or who knows what. I have to mull it over and see what I most want to do. I will make a change but exactly what the change will be has not yet been decided. I will talk to a few people and get a resume out there, just to suss out the options. I'll figure it out eventually--in the next month or so.

In the meantime, I ask just one favor: don't tell my mother. Oy.

Grateful for: being ready to go.

Working for pay

My college thesis advisor (Joanna Russ, a feminist science fiction writer) told me that she thought that stories about working life were notably absent from fiction. She said there were great stories that no one had told yet and it was surprising because so much life, especially American life, is spent working. In most fiction, working life is on the sidelines or relegated to a mere plot point: it’s not the meat of the story. (Exceptions abound but the main point is valid.)

I’m not writing a novel about work but ever since she made that remark, I keep my eyes open for good stories about work. Blogs, of course, are great sources, but most of us take pains not to write about our current working life for fear of retribution. However, what about our work history? Mine, interestingly enough, has relatively little to do with my current position, so I can get right into it.

Aside: as I’m writing this, I realize that I wrote a dissertation that was sort of about “working for pay." “Working for pay” was my dependent variable (outcome of interest) and it was merely a quantitative measurement of how much, or if, the person had worked for pay in a given year. I didn’t study types of jobs or pay or benefits or anything like that. Sort of funny, though, to have written a dissertation on a topic about which I know very little. To clarify, my main focus was on one particular independent (predictor) variable and how it influenced work, not actually on work. Oh, and we say “working for pay” because working inside the home is work too, but not what I was measuring.

Being a good American, possessed of a strong Protestant work ethic (even though I’m Jewish), I was interested in earning money from a very young age. Childcare was my chosen field. I liked kids and overestimated my ability to wrangle them. At age three I appointed myself overseer of a two-year-old and tried to feed her a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. She refused. I picked her up with the intention of carrying her to the sandwich. She bawled. My first attempt at babysitting was a failure.

My first successful babysitting gig was several years later when, at age eight, I watched a three-year-old while our parents looked on. His mother was very pleased with me and gave me a quarter. I showed it to my mom. She was proud of me and taped the quarter to a piece of paper and wrote, “[Jamy’s] first quarter earned.”

My first legitimate babysitting job was right here in Washington D.C. when I was 12. The family lived a few blocks from my house in Mt. Pleasant and they hired me to watch their two-year-old son for the evening. My mom took me over and met the parents. I was to call her if there were problems. The kid was awake but his parents put him to bed after I arrived and then they left.

After the parents were gone, the kid started making some noises. Not crying noises, talking noises. But he didn’t speak any language I could understand. I went into his room and tried to figure out what he wanted. He kept saying the same word over and over, “Arsh! Arsh! Arsh!”

What was “arsh?” I held up a stuffed animal. Nope, not arsh. Another toy. Nope. I held up everything in the room that seemed like something he’d want to sleep with but nothing stopped his calls for “arsh.”

I took him out of the crib and we played on the floor in his room for a little while. He got sleepy and I put him back to bed. He slept this time and I spent the rest of the evening watching tv.

When the parents got home I told them about “arsh.”

“Oh!” the mom said, “His cars! He likes to sleep with those little cars. Sorry, I should have told you.”

“Ah, well, I couldn’t understand what he was saying.”

“It’s fine.”

It didn't occur to me that any kid would want to sleep with hard little metal cars. But when I played with him on the bedroom floor—it was with those little toy cars. Live and learn.

This puts me in mind of many other amusing babysitting stories. Hrm. I can either tell all of those or figure out what the next non-babysitting job was. Decisions, decisions.

Last and unrelated: don't forget to VOTE. I got three reminder calls to vote: one from Mayor Fenty, one from a computer voice and one from Michelle Obama. Guess who they were rooting for?

Grateful for: the right to work and vote.

Off and on

I have to say that all this working at work is cutting into my blogging time. In lieu of a better thought out post, here are some short notes on what's been going on with me:

a) Last Friday, I went out for dinner and music-listening with Pele and some friends. All night, I was a little "off." Things I said seemed to spark irritation rather than conversation. For example, I complained that my new co-ed sports team was made up of a group of strangers. One friend said, "What's wrong with that? If I were part of a team, I wouldn't want to get kicked off so strangers could join." I could see that she had a point, but I stuck to my guns. It wasn't exactly unfriendly, but it wasn't the most comfortable exchange either. What gives? Being right or wrong shouldn't matter in this context. Maybe it mattered a little too much to me.

b) Later the same evening, we went to listen to another friend DJ. Pele pointed out that the DJ was basically playing my record collection. I started to listen more closely and, indeed, I own the records (the actual vinyl LPs) for over 50% of the songs played. When his stint was done, I remarked to the DJ, "It was like you were playing my record collection!" He said, "Really? Great! If you have a party, I'll come over and spin." Now, it's not that I didn't appreciate the offer (it's kind of a cool idea) but it's not the reaction I expected. I thought he'd be impressed or offer me a compliment or ask about the records. I felt slightly disappointed but I'm not sure why.

c) Saturday morning, my outdoor soccer team had an informal practice. I rode my bike and managed to show up about 30 minutes late. The first thing someone said to me was, "You should take a lap to warm up—we all did." I said, "I'm warm, I rode my bike." I mean, really. It's practice. I rode my bike. Was I supposed to jog out of solidarity? My knees can't take that. Somehow I muddled through. And boy oh boy did I need the practice. I have about zero soccer skills and every little bit of drilling helps.

d) That night, I did nothing. I was tired from practice and had a game the next morning. My nothing involved moving books off shelves, doing all the bills, filing papers, knitting, watching football and cooking dinner. It was almost relaxing.

e) Sunday morning, I showed up early (on-time!) for my first co-ed indoor soccer game. It seemed easy compared to practice the previous day. While I'm not any better at this version of the game than outdoor, I did enjoy it and it's excellent exercise. The best I can say for myself is that I did nothing to cause major embarrassment. The teammates are friendly, and since we're all strangers, we're all on an equal footing. There's something to be said in favor of that. After the game I went grocery shopping. Can you spell excitement?

f) Monday after work I decided to go to this happy hour I've never been to sponsored by a group of which I'm a member. I went to the exact address on the email and the place wasn't there. I turned around and went home. Via some very minor internet detective work, I discovered that the place does exist, but the address they gave was one digit off: 2424 instead of 2524. Maybe next month!

g) Tuesday it was time for swing dance lessons again. Our last lesson (the place has been booked for other events the last three weeks) was the time I had the argument with one of my classmates. Last night, I worried about what would happen when faced with my "enemy." At first, I wasn't sure I'd recognize him but I sure did. He knew me too, at least I infer he did, because he very cleverly stood just to my right in the circle we form for class. By placing himself to my right, my enemy ensured that he'd dance with everyone else in the class before getting to me. In fact, our class is so large that we don't always make a full rotation. As it happened, my enemy and I never danced—one more rotation and we would have! Is he not the best enemy ever?

h) I enjoyed the non-class part of the evening due to a good band and a favorable ratio of competent to incompetent dancers. I danced with one fellow more than once and, for some reason, I told him my enemy story. Again, I was a little off. Oh well. CK was there too, which was great because I've been meaning to call her. We caught up and I told her about my enemy. She laughed and laughed. Triumph!

i) This morning, I got a call from an old grad school friend and she asked me to participate in a roundtable she is organizing for this year's professional association meetings. I gladly accepted and dashed off a very short "paper" (one page!) to reserve my space in her session. This is very good news because my name will be on the program and that's how I get my agency to pay for the trip. THEN I realized that the meeting is earlier than usual and that a good friend in Seattle is getting married the EXACT SAME WEEKEND. Well, damn. I don't know what I'm going to do about that.

k) In the interest of keeping work at the work place, that's it for today.

Grateful for: productivity.

Blog diet

It should be no secret to regular readers that I'm not crazy about my job. I still think the substantive parts of what I do are important and interesting, but my real, day-to-day duties have turned me into a glorified editor. The writing quality of the documents I receive is so low that I have to do significant work to turn them into things my agency can publish without embarrassment. It is a sad, sad state of affairs.

Perhaps the saddest aspect of this state of affairs is what an incredible slacker I've become. I spent all week reading a document for which I'll have to prepare a memo summarizing my (and other readers') comments. I want to have the memo ready by Monday and I started writing it today. I'm at page 22 of the document and page 8 of my memo (it's a bad sign that my memo is so long).

In order to get this memo done on time, I decided to track my time at work. Being accountable to myself should help me get more work done. I set up a little free timer thing with categories for my different tasks, including non-work ones, like lunch, breaks and "non-work reading." So, what did I find I was spending most of my time on? Was it on writing lovely, entertaining blog posts? No, not at all. Most of my time was in the "non-work reading" category. That's right, I was spending (almost) ALL DAY reading blogs! And I'm a fast reader. However, since I subscribe to over 100 blogs on bloglines, even a reader as fast as I would get bogged down.

Yesterday I decided that not only were my reading habits ridiculous but they bordered on the shameful and definitely crossed over to the irresponsible. I may not enjoy my job, but I am well paid and I do have work to do and I damn well need to get it done.

Even in the super slow times, I need to limit the blog reading to off hours. I have lots of non-pressing reading to do if my projects are in lulls. I actually was starting to get some of that reading done before the holidays, but too many days away from the office and the ramping up of some projects put it on the back burner. But it's there, waiting, when the slow times come again (and they will).

I'd say that even doing my own writing is a better non-work use of my time than reading blogs. Not that I'm going to stop, oh no. I'll just have to gorge myself in the evenings and weekends. When I'm not knitting, that is. Or maybe while I'm knitting!

Today's approximate numbers:
Time spent on real work: 5 hours
Time spent on blog writing: 30 minutes
Lunch: 1 hour
Breaks/email: 1 hour

Hey, that's almost a full day! I haven't even included the drop-bys and casual work conversations (one was a question about how to use our phones for conference calls—if it's electronic, they ask me). I'm off to a good start.

Wish me luck!

Grateful for: self-discipline.

Detection

I woke up as sick as ever. Full of headache, sinus infection, and aches. Fun!

I rolled into work late (normal, but please blame the illness). The first thing that greets me is an email alerting me of an "emergency." It's not a life or death emergency, it's a work emergency.

Uh oh.

While TR is gone for the holiday, I'm acting. I'm the boss. If I'm the boss it means that no one else is there. In this case, it's me and two other staff people.

This is the emergency: my office is doing a survey. In order for any government agency to do a survey, you must get approval from OMB. After they grant approval, you have a certain amount of time in which to conduct the survey. If you are going to run out of time, you request an extension. In this case, we were requesting an emergency extension because the initial survey period was shorter than usual and things took longer than expected.

We sent this request to OMB about 30 days ago. We need the extension by the first of the year. So, OMB lets us know that they have a problem two days before the permission expires. Lovely.

Oh, and the OMB message? "Can you please explain in detail the need for this EE?"

Now, I don't know anything about this particular study. I know it exists, I know the general issue, but I have no idea what the status of the study is. I don't know if the survey is underway, I don't know why the extension is being requested, I don't know which contractor is doing the study. I do know that the people who have these answers are out of town.

I call Lucy, the woman who forwarded me the OMB email. Lucy is our agency's contact with OMB and we have to go through her to deal with this.

I say I don't know much about the study. Lucy says she isn't sure if we need the extension. I ask, "Isn't the reason for the extension in what we sent to OMB?"

She says, "From what TR said before, you're putting in another request for OMB approval on this project, so maybe that will be enough."

"Maybe, but I don't know. If we're in the field now, then we need the extension."

In the meantime, Lucy has sent a message to OMB telling them that since we have another package in the works, would they rather disregard our emergency request.

I tell Lucy I'm not comfortable with that since we could be in the field--doing the survey! Which is technically illegal if our OMB approval expires. I tell her I'm going to make some calls and get back to her as soon as I know something.

I email TR. Then I call his cell phone. Then I call Danielle's cell phone, since I know she's worked on this project. I also send her email. I don't reach either of them.

I call some other people at work. No one knows anything.

Instead of getting frustrated I start to feel like a detective. I'm going to figure out a way to track this down. I decide the next thing to do is find out who the contractor is. They should know the status of the project. I figure out who the contractor is and put in a call to a woman I know who works there. She knows who is in charge of the project but he is out. She says she'll send an email around and find out if anyone else can answer my questions.

I call Lucy, tell her what's up and ask for more time. She doesn't promise anything.

Then TR emails with all the answers. The survey is on-going and we need the extension. Duh. If we didn't need it, then why would we ask for it?

I was actually a little disappointed that I wasn't able to solve the problem on my own, but it was fun trying.

I also handed in my application for the leadership-training program. Go me.

I'm off to relax for the rest of the weekend. You do likewise and don't go getting sick like me.

Grateful for: responsibility.