Just a quick one to let you know that my sense of humor hasn't completely disappeared, despite the challenges of my life just now.
As you know, I'm quite the coffee fiend, and the weekend ritual involves me getting up, usually with some level of hangover, and preparing a little espresso with my stovetop machine. The sell Lavazza at my local market, and that's a pretty good thing.
A week ago, right before my parents left town, I bought a few liters of milk, noting the sell by date but not too worried; it was possible that I'd be in Edinburgh late in the week, but would still have good milk upon my return, at least for Saturday morning.
Well, you've already read about my crap week, and let it be said that last Friday night I went out and tied one on.
Thus, I was fully ready for my Saturday morning coffee when I woke up. My little machine worked great as usual, and I poured the steaming espresso into my mug. Then, I poured the last of my milk into the mug, then set it down on the counter to cool for just a minute.
Powered up the laptop, connected to the internet to check the headlines, then went back to collect my coffee. The surface of the liquid looked a little funny, so I stuck a spoon in the mug and gave a bit of a stir. Well, apparently all of the milk curdled right on the spot; there was nothing but a big spongy mass of yuck.
For those of you who enjoy traditional onion soup, you know it is usually served with a sizable crouton on the bottom of the soup bowl. Every once in awhile, the soggy bread tends to gross me out, which is why I don't go out of my way to have onion soup all that frequently.
The disaster in my coffee mug was that times ten. I feared for a moment that my coffee was toxic, and or worse yet, that I was about to be violently ill.
Fortunately, I threw open the back door, inhaled deeply on a cigarette, and overcame my nausea. Then, I emptied the contents of the mug into the trash, and promptly threw out the milk, swearing to myself a bit because I really needed a coffee.
I went out for a few errands, got a haircut, then stopped by the market on the way home and went to the milk aisle, where I selected a different brand of milk: Alpenfrisch Milch, 3.5% fat.
Home again, and Saturday evening, I had a tasty coffee with some super milk that even Heidi would be proud of.
There's nothing quite worse than spoilt milk, but hey, it could have been so much worse. Thank goodness I looked before I gulped.
cheers
bryan
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Keeping the Faith
Back at the end of the 90s, Miles Hunt of the Wonderstuff was doing a fair amount of solo work, and I happened to see him play a live acoustic set in which he played a song titled, "Everything is Not OK."
That song has been my theme song for the month of May.
28 days ago I wrote of my joy that my pub had reopened, my parents were coming to visit, and I was truly hoping that things would start settling down in the office, allowing me to have a nice month.
Boy was I ever wrong.
I've not had a particularly pleasant month at all. Virtually everything work related has gone tits up, as my colleagues in the UK frequently remark. However, I must clarify this statement. From an operations standpoint in my facility, my little program is starting to take off; we're making progress and doing pretty well. Colleagues are starting to take responsibility, and I'm encouraged that my efforts to build a program are showing result.
On the other hand, the project involves two repair sites and a call center. We've had quite a few problems in the call center, and the other site has had it's share of challenges. Furthermore, a few people involved in the management of the program have been off on holiday for a few days at various times during the month, and I've discovered that when they're absent, we absolutely fall apart.
At one point two weeks ago, I was trying to cover for about 4 people, and absolutely couldn't get everything done. Once or twice during that particular week, I was very nearly down for the count; unable to continue in the zany sicko world of program management in the repair logistics industry.
After this past week, I'd prefer the way it went two weeks back, simply shitty and horrible. This past week, I had the complete crap beat out of me no less than 150 times. Wednesday, after an unpleasant two hours on the phone with the European manager of a small program that I'm watching after, I hung up the phone and joined another conference call where the entire management team of my primary customer proceeded to yell and scream so loudly that the connection kept cutting out on the telephone.
Redundant as their message was, it was very clear that they're not satisfied with the way things are going. It's a bit annoying that they don't recognize their redundancy (each one basically said the exact same thing - the call center isn't performing, you've got a backlog, there aren't enough people working the issues, etc), but it's a bit humiliating that this is now the second time we've had this sort of teleconference. How come we didn't sort things out six weeks ago when they first told us their concerns?
Well, basically, we're trying to accomplish too much with too few people. This is a majorly complicated project that requires a fair amount of brain power. Unfortunately, there are three of us trying to make it all happen, and it's almost impossible, especially if the slightest thing goes wrong or someone is out of the office.
I'm reminded of the times when I played football with Muzzy, Stephen, Sean, and Shane; the Pogue Mahones. More than several times in 2005, we'd have 4 guys on the pitch playing against a team of 6. For the first 8-10 minutes or so, we held our own, possibly only allowing 1 or 2 goals. Then, we'd fall apart and proceed to get hammered for the remaining 30 minutes of the game, ultimately losing pretty impressively.
After those games, we'd always head straight to the pub and congratulate ourselves on our efforts. We always played ok, but were outmatched simply because we lacked a full squad. We told ourselves to be proud; other teams wouldn't have been able to hang in half as long as we did.
Well, I'm right smack in the middle of a cup final, against a team that, while not really any better than we are, happens to be well funded and has an unlimited number of players both on the pitch and on the reserves bench (feel free to say "Chelsea," if you like). We've played OK for a few minutes, but there's a lot of time left on the clock, and it's going to get brutal.
My analogy only works on one level, too. After all, I cannot and should not attempt to beat this team; they're my customer. (note - I might like a few quiet minutes in a dark alley with a couple of the folks that seem to go out of their way to kick us when we're down. C'mon, is it really necessary to point out that we're not sending out reports in a timely manner when we've just admitted that we're behind in sending out reports?)
I've been trying to figure out where we're going wrong with this project. I've certainly had moments where I could be making better decisions, and I think that goes for everyone in my company. We always seem to try and create a profitable program through smoke and mirrors, with one man behind a little screen. Sooner or later it catches up, and we all end up looking like fuckheads.
At any rate, that's pretty much the job update. One big Suck with a capital S. Plenty more of where that came from.
So, what am I doing about it? Looking for the humor in all of it, trying to keep my sanity, and trying to dig myself out. I will dig myself out, somehow or someway.
It's most unfortunate that my folks happened to be here during the roughest two weeks of the month. I did not see them nearly as much as I would have liked, and that's been a bit tough to handle. Here I was, in a perfectly appropriate moment to remark, "I want my mommy," and she was actually in town. Instead, however, I got a bit too caught up in myself and let them kind of fend for themselves more often than not. I think we managed to have dinner together five or six evenings.
My parents are quite the great human beings, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly during their time in Frankfurt. Sure, they would have preferred to spend more time with me, but also understood my complicated situation. They scouted out a bunch of great places in Sachsenhausen, which is the other hip district in Frankfurt. It's south of the river (how cool is it that there's a river running through my city?) and is full of nice little cafes and bars. My folks seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood by the end of their visit.
The three of us did get to celebrate Mother's Day together, though I was not in the best of form due to the fact that the previous evening I'd been to an open air concert involving Kim Wilde, no less, and had managed to consume some award winning amount of beer sold by the liter. Said concert involved a humorous moment where Stefan was kneeling down, calling Hieke to find out where she was standing. Stefan and I had gone on a potty break/beer run and gotten lost in the crowd of people. So, he was on the ground trying to hear the phone conversation, and I stood there holding the two liters of beer. A person standing in front of us put his girlfriend on his shoulders, which interrupted the view of someone behind us. The frustrated person ran forward to tell the guy to put his girl down, but knocked into me, causing me to spill most of the beer on Stefan, who stood up quickly with his back soaked in beer yelling, "shit shit shit!"
Ah well, it made for a good story later at the pub as we had a few more unnecessary beers.
I did manage to see the UEFA Cup and Champions League finals. UEFA Cup was quite the entertaining match, Champs League not so much. Actually, the FA Cup final wasn't all that hot either, now that I think about it. But, another season of football has ended, and now we wait until August when we start all over again. Yes, I know La Liga has a couple of games left, but Valencia has no chance of anything higher than fourth place.
As I look for the humor in life to help me through my rough spell, I realize that I'm a bit out of form. My mom and dad for sure noticed, and my barman has, too, just to name a few folks. It has always been difficult for me to try and skate through with a simple, "yeah, sure, everything is great!" even when it isn't. That said, I don't try to drag everyone into it, either.
So, even though there seems to be an absence of humorous events, I remember a few key moments of this past month: Going to the post office to pick up an autographed copy of Ian Rankin's The Naming of the Dead. I've just finished that book and feel a whole lot better about life. Thanks again, McKee.
Also, I finally got to have a chat with a guy who recently Maui'ed himself. The pix are great, Whit. Made me want to go buy some JCrew. (Please accept that as the compliment it was intended to be)
That song has been my theme song for the month of May.
28 days ago I wrote of my joy that my pub had reopened, my parents were coming to visit, and I was truly hoping that things would start settling down in the office, allowing me to have a nice month.
Boy was I ever wrong.
I've not had a particularly pleasant month at all. Virtually everything work related has gone tits up, as my colleagues in the UK frequently remark. However, I must clarify this statement. From an operations standpoint in my facility, my little program is starting to take off; we're making progress and doing pretty well. Colleagues are starting to take responsibility, and I'm encouraged that my efforts to build a program are showing result.
On the other hand, the project involves two repair sites and a call center. We've had quite a few problems in the call center, and the other site has had it's share of challenges. Furthermore, a few people involved in the management of the program have been off on holiday for a few days at various times during the month, and I've discovered that when they're absent, we absolutely fall apart.
At one point two weeks ago, I was trying to cover for about 4 people, and absolutely couldn't get everything done. Once or twice during that particular week, I was very nearly down for the count; unable to continue in the zany sicko world of program management in the repair logistics industry.
After this past week, I'd prefer the way it went two weeks back, simply shitty and horrible. This past week, I had the complete crap beat out of me no less than 150 times. Wednesday, after an unpleasant two hours on the phone with the European manager of a small program that I'm watching after, I hung up the phone and joined another conference call where the entire management team of my primary customer proceeded to yell and scream so loudly that the connection kept cutting out on the telephone.
Redundant as their message was, it was very clear that they're not satisfied with the way things are going. It's a bit annoying that they don't recognize their redundancy (each one basically said the exact same thing - the call center isn't performing, you've got a backlog, there aren't enough people working the issues, etc), but it's a bit humiliating that this is now the second time we've had this sort of teleconference. How come we didn't sort things out six weeks ago when they first told us their concerns?
Well, basically, we're trying to accomplish too much with too few people. This is a majorly complicated project that requires a fair amount of brain power. Unfortunately, there are three of us trying to make it all happen, and it's almost impossible, especially if the slightest thing goes wrong or someone is out of the office.
I'm reminded of the times when I played football with Muzzy, Stephen, Sean, and Shane; the Pogue Mahones. More than several times in 2005, we'd have 4 guys on the pitch playing against a team of 6. For the first 8-10 minutes or so, we held our own, possibly only allowing 1 or 2 goals. Then, we'd fall apart and proceed to get hammered for the remaining 30 minutes of the game, ultimately losing pretty impressively.
After those games, we'd always head straight to the pub and congratulate ourselves on our efforts. We always played ok, but were outmatched simply because we lacked a full squad. We told ourselves to be proud; other teams wouldn't have been able to hang in half as long as we did.
Well, I'm right smack in the middle of a cup final, against a team that, while not really any better than we are, happens to be well funded and has an unlimited number of players both on the pitch and on the reserves bench (feel free to say "Chelsea," if you like). We've played OK for a few minutes, but there's a lot of time left on the clock, and it's going to get brutal.
My analogy only works on one level, too. After all, I cannot and should not attempt to beat this team; they're my customer. (note - I might like a few quiet minutes in a dark alley with a couple of the folks that seem to go out of their way to kick us when we're down. C'mon, is it really necessary to point out that we're not sending out reports in a timely manner when we've just admitted that we're behind in sending out reports?)
I've been trying to figure out where we're going wrong with this project. I've certainly had moments where I could be making better decisions, and I think that goes for everyone in my company. We always seem to try and create a profitable program through smoke and mirrors, with one man behind a little screen. Sooner or later it catches up, and we all end up looking like fuckheads.
At any rate, that's pretty much the job update. One big Suck with a capital S. Plenty more of where that came from.
So, what am I doing about it? Looking for the humor in all of it, trying to keep my sanity, and trying to dig myself out. I will dig myself out, somehow or someway.
It's most unfortunate that my folks happened to be here during the roughest two weeks of the month. I did not see them nearly as much as I would have liked, and that's been a bit tough to handle. Here I was, in a perfectly appropriate moment to remark, "I want my mommy," and she was actually in town. Instead, however, I got a bit too caught up in myself and let them kind of fend for themselves more often than not. I think we managed to have dinner together five or six evenings.
My parents are quite the great human beings, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly during their time in Frankfurt. Sure, they would have preferred to spend more time with me, but also understood my complicated situation. They scouted out a bunch of great places in Sachsenhausen, which is the other hip district in Frankfurt. It's south of the river (how cool is it that there's a river running through my city?) and is full of nice little cafes and bars. My folks seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood by the end of their visit.
The three of us did get to celebrate Mother's Day together, though I was not in the best of form due to the fact that the previous evening I'd been to an open air concert involving Kim Wilde, no less, and had managed to consume some award winning amount of beer sold by the liter. Said concert involved a humorous moment where Stefan was kneeling down, calling Hieke to find out where she was standing. Stefan and I had gone on a potty break/beer run and gotten lost in the crowd of people. So, he was on the ground trying to hear the phone conversation, and I stood there holding the two liters of beer. A person standing in front of us put his girlfriend on his shoulders, which interrupted the view of someone behind us. The frustrated person ran forward to tell the guy to put his girl down, but knocked into me, causing me to spill most of the beer on Stefan, who stood up quickly with his back soaked in beer yelling, "shit shit shit!"
Ah well, it made for a good story later at the pub as we had a few more unnecessary beers.
I did manage to see the UEFA Cup and Champions League finals. UEFA Cup was quite the entertaining match, Champs League not so much. Actually, the FA Cup final wasn't all that hot either, now that I think about it. But, another season of football has ended, and now we wait until August when we start all over again. Yes, I know La Liga has a couple of games left, but Valencia has no chance of anything higher than fourth place.
As I look for the humor in life to help me through my rough spell, I realize that I'm a bit out of form. My mom and dad for sure noticed, and my barman has, too, just to name a few folks. It has always been difficult for me to try and skate through with a simple, "yeah, sure, everything is great!" even when it isn't. That said, I don't try to drag everyone into it, either.
So, even though there seems to be an absence of humorous events, I remember a few key moments of this past month: Going to the post office to pick up an autographed copy of Ian Rankin's The Naming of the Dead. I've just finished that book and feel a whole lot better about life. Thanks again, McKee.
Also, I finally got to have a chat with a guy who recently Maui'ed himself. The pix are great, Whit. Made me want to go buy some JCrew. (Please accept that as the compliment it was intended to be)
I started this piece earlier in the day, and have since gotten sidetracked by (go figure) work related things, but a brief skype with Pablo has made for a nice way to wrap things up. It's "halb acht," which is 7.30pm in english. Time to ratchet down for the day.
I believe I'll slip over to the pub for a couple, and perhaps prepare my schedule for the rest of the week.
keep the faith
bryan
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
A Slow Drowning
I'm absolutely swamped. Every day I go to work, I find myself four more hours behind. This might lead to the suggestion that perhaps I should just stop going to work, and that thought has crossed my mind.
Don't adjust your set, don't delete the bookmark, I'll get a few more stories put up in the near future.
cheers
bryan
Don't adjust your set, don't delete the bookmark, I'll get a few more stories put up in the near future.
cheers
bryan
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Normal Service Returned - The Bornheim Irish Pub is Open
I think my liver has been one of the happiest organs in my body over the past weeks as my local was closed for a quick renovation under the new owner. Sure, I made it out for a few drinks here and there at various places, but not with the same frequency as before. That's probably a good thing.
A place called Sugar sort of became my regular meeting point. It's not a very big place, a bit on the trendy side, and tends to sell more mixed drinks than beers. However, this is Germany after all, so you can always get a pils. What makes Sugar especially cool is that the front windows all open up, allowing for people to sit in the window sills. The biergarten has quite a few tables which tend to be full of patrons night after night, especially now with the super weather that Frankfurt is experiencing.
Stefan and I were in there last Friday night, and for whatever the reason, we decided that after three beers, we'd each have a margarita. Stefan had initially tried to talk me into a tequila shot, but gladly accepted the alternative suggestion. The barman scored points for presentation, but alas, the drink wasn't all that great. Probably a good thing, because I suddenly missed a few choice establishments on Lower Greenville in Dallas that were known for their tasty margs.
At any rate, Stefan ordered us mojitos for the next round, and things started getting a little fuzzy, but enjoyable. I'd been telling Stefan about my night out with Susi the previous evening; I hadn't seen her since the football hooligan pub night the week before. We'd actually had a good chat, sorted a few things out, and I was feeling much better about the whole situation. In fact, the whole week had been pretty good, thus the desire to celebrate with a few drinks.
"Was bedeutet beer before liquor never sicker auf Deutsch?" I asked Stefan as we crunched the ice from our mojitos. He acknowledged the phrase, but said there really isn't an equivalent expression in his language. With that, I ordered up a couple of long island iced teas, and upon my first sip, remembered why I just don't like that drink much. It is a preferred drink of Stefan, though probably not the most intelligent drink to order as our last round (of quite a few rounds) of the evening. Stefan noted that he was truly drunk and would struggle to get home, but that's what Friday nights are all about.
I asked for the bill, then handed cash to the barman to cover the entire tab. Stefan protested, albeit drunkenly. In Germany, everyone pays their own way. In fact, you'll frequently see a waitress struggling at a crowded table to sort out how much everyone owes. There's really no such thing as splitting the tab equally amongst the number of people at the table. This custom continues with couples, too. Most couples go dutch every single time.
This custom makes perfect sense, but it's a bit annoying for me. I tend to follow the traditional style of paying for a round, whether I collect the pints from the barman or the pints are brought by the waitress. What goes around comes around, right? I'd talked about this with Stefan, who kept asking, "but how to you keep everything even?"
It's funny, Germans in general do not care as much about money. Er, until they have to spend it, that is. My customary habit of covering a nights drinking really doesn't come from the fact that I don't care about money. It's just that years ago at college, no one really had any money, so we all turned to pooling our funds to buy beer, play pool, or whatever.
For most of my 20s, I lived paycheck to paycheck. Whoever had money usually paid, ensuring that everyone had a good time. Around close friends, this is fairly easy to manage. Someone who starts to take advantage of the situation tends to get closed out of the loop pretty quickly.
Once I started making enough money to save a bit more, I found myself enjoying the opportunity to "invite" someone for a drink from time to time. This is very common in Spain, and to some extent, not unusual in Germany. However, that tends to happen more in casual circumstances: an impromptu coffee with a few acquaintances, etc.
Around close friends, I've always tried to keep the bill pretty even, but still tend to pay a bit more than my share, just in case someone is a bit short. That was my idea at the end of Friday evening, when Stefan insisted that he pay his share. I indicated that I'd pay for the margaritas and the iced teas, but he wasn't comfortable with that. I pointed out that he could pay the bill the next time we were out for drinks, but he responded that he might forget. I mentioned that I would certainly remind him, then went on to relate some experiences from Dubliner and Old Monk days where sometimes we'd go weeks before settling up.
Stefan then said that his culture was different, and while he understood everything I was saying, he said he needed time to get used to it. I was pretty touched. Here I was, in effort to show that I valued his friendship more than money, was actually almost insulting him. But, he was trying not take offense and simply respect my own custom. Lesson learned.
Money sorted, we headed down the street, Stefan staggering all over the place. There are about five bars between Sugar and the corner of my street, and Stefan stopped and looked in each place. We almost stopped for a kebap, which would have been a horrible mistake, then paused in the doorway of the next trinkhalle. A couple of people were standing at the bar, and they invited us in. Oh the things you do at 3am in the morning. We had a last beer with them, and somehow I felt a bit more sober as I finished my glass. Home to bed. A nice way to finish the workweek and start the weekend.
I enjoyed a quiet Saturday, and stayed in that evening; the previous evening had been plenty. Besides, I knew I'd slip out for a few pints on Sunday afternoon while watching the Arsenal match.
How pleased I was on Sunday afternoon to see that my local had reopened: tables out on the terrace, people enjoying the sunshine. At last.
I had a good trip to the gym, then showered up and walked into the pub around 3.30 hoping to have a sandwich or something before the Arsenal match. Ray greeted me, and showed me the renovations that they had done in the past four weeks. Most importantly, the bar is much cleaner than before, and that's a huge plus. The fresh coats of paint, the rearrangement of the tables, the new sound system all look good, too.
My old stool was waiting for me, and I spent the next couple of hours just enjoying the return of the local. Arsenal didn't play all that well in their match against Fulham, but still won the game. Word was spreading quickly that the pub had reopened, so a lot of familiar faces were popping in for a pint or two. It was a bit of a reunion, if you will.
The pub had actually reopened the previous evening; I hadn't noticed because I was already in for the night. I was actually glad to have missed the opening, and Ray already said that the formal opening party wouldn't happen for a couple of weeks anyway.
I returned to the pub Monday night, hoping to see a lot of the folks that I hadn't seen in a few weeks, and was delighted to run into just about everyone I've met over the past months in Bornheim. English John and I greeted each other warmly, mentioning that we'd seen one another at the U-Bahn stop a couple of early mornings, neither of us wanting to talk much. We also planned to light the bar on fire (with a bit of zippo fuel) at some point in a few weeks, just for old times sake and to welcome the return of the pub.
In a way, the pub feels a bit different. Ray is a proper barman and has the place looking pretty sharp. But, not all of the old employees are back. It will take a bit of time before I can bring in music to play, but I'll slip something into the cd changer at some point. Still it's my local, and I'm pleased.
The first waitress that I met at the pub last December was a girl named Zena. She was exceptionally nice, but quit the job before the end of January. I heard later that she didn't get along with the owner. She works at a bank in Frankfurt along with her friend Heike, who's sister was actually the owner of the pub. Heike worked at the pub from time to time, also. Both of them came in about an hour after I arrived, and they made excellent company. Tomislav and Goran, my Serbian friends (and former employees of the pub) joined us and the five of us spent the next several hours chatting, laughing, and getting pretty oiled. Goran and I talked about the upcoming release of the Simonout album; Goran is spending a lot of time in the studio finishing the production. Zena has an awesome laugh, she tends to giggle constantly. So does Heike, for that matter. Both speak English very well, but pushed me to speak in German as much as possible. Practicing German with a couple of attractive German girls? Um, OK.
At 2.30am, we paid up, and all went our separate ways. An exceptional night, and I'm rewarded with a hell of a hangover today. Fortunately, it's May day, a holiday for much of Europe. So, I can recover without having to think much about work. Work is something I'll worry about on Wednesday.
Today is all about relaxing on my balcony, having a coffee, doing a bit of writing and guitar playing. I might have a shower later, but who knows.
I've been in Germany for five months, now. Pretty cool.
cheers
bryan
A place called Sugar sort of became my regular meeting point. It's not a very big place, a bit on the trendy side, and tends to sell more mixed drinks than beers. However, this is Germany after all, so you can always get a pils. What makes Sugar especially cool is that the front windows all open up, allowing for people to sit in the window sills. The biergarten has quite a few tables which tend to be full of patrons night after night, especially now with the super weather that Frankfurt is experiencing.
Stefan and I were in there last Friday night, and for whatever the reason, we decided that after three beers, we'd each have a margarita. Stefan had initially tried to talk me into a tequila shot, but gladly accepted the alternative suggestion. The barman scored points for presentation, but alas, the drink wasn't all that great. Probably a good thing, because I suddenly missed a few choice establishments on Lower Greenville in Dallas that were known for their tasty margs.
At any rate, Stefan ordered us mojitos for the next round, and things started getting a little fuzzy, but enjoyable. I'd been telling Stefan about my night out with Susi the previous evening; I hadn't seen her since the football hooligan pub night the week before. We'd actually had a good chat, sorted a few things out, and I was feeling much better about the whole situation. In fact, the whole week had been pretty good, thus the desire to celebrate with a few drinks.
"Was bedeutet beer before liquor never sicker auf Deutsch?" I asked Stefan as we crunched the ice from our mojitos. He acknowledged the phrase, but said there really isn't an equivalent expression in his language. With that, I ordered up a couple of long island iced teas, and upon my first sip, remembered why I just don't like that drink much. It is a preferred drink of Stefan, though probably not the most intelligent drink to order as our last round (of quite a few rounds) of the evening. Stefan noted that he was truly drunk and would struggle to get home, but that's what Friday nights are all about.
I asked for the bill, then handed cash to the barman to cover the entire tab. Stefan protested, albeit drunkenly. In Germany, everyone pays their own way. In fact, you'll frequently see a waitress struggling at a crowded table to sort out how much everyone owes. There's really no such thing as splitting the tab equally amongst the number of people at the table. This custom continues with couples, too. Most couples go dutch every single time.
This custom makes perfect sense, but it's a bit annoying for me. I tend to follow the traditional style of paying for a round, whether I collect the pints from the barman or the pints are brought by the waitress. What goes around comes around, right? I'd talked about this with Stefan, who kept asking, "but how to you keep everything even?"
It's funny, Germans in general do not care as much about money. Er, until they have to spend it, that is. My customary habit of covering a nights drinking really doesn't come from the fact that I don't care about money. It's just that years ago at college, no one really had any money, so we all turned to pooling our funds to buy beer, play pool, or whatever.
For most of my 20s, I lived paycheck to paycheck. Whoever had money usually paid, ensuring that everyone had a good time. Around close friends, this is fairly easy to manage. Someone who starts to take advantage of the situation tends to get closed out of the loop pretty quickly.
Once I started making enough money to save a bit more, I found myself enjoying the opportunity to "invite" someone for a drink from time to time. This is very common in Spain, and to some extent, not unusual in Germany. However, that tends to happen more in casual circumstances: an impromptu coffee with a few acquaintances, etc.
Around close friends, I've always tried to keep the bill pretty even, but still tend to pay a bit more than my share, just in case someone is a bit short. That was my idea at the end of Friday evening, when Stefan insisted that he pay his share. I indicated that I'd pay for the margaritas and the iced teas, but he wasn't comfortable with that. I pointed out that he could pay the bill the next time we were out for drinks, but he responded that he might forget. I mentioned that I would certainly remind him, then went on to relate some experiences from Dubliner and Old Monk days where sometimes we'd go weeks before settling up.
Stefan then said that his culture was different, and while he understood everything I was saying, he said he needed time to get used to it. I was pretty touched. Here I was, in effort to show that I valued his friendship more than money, was actually almost insulting him. But, he was trying not take offense and simply respect my own custom. Lesson learned.
Money sorted, we headed down the street, Stefan staggering all over the place. There are about five bars between Sugar and the corner of my street, and Stefan stopped and looked in each place. We almost stopped for a kebap, which would have been a horrible mistake, then paused in the doorway of the next trinkhalle. A couple of people were standing at the bar, and they invited us in. Oh the things you do at 3am in the morning. We had a last beer with them, and somehow I felt a bit more sober as I finished my glass. Home to bed. A nice way to finish the workweek and start the weekend.
I enjoyed a quiet Saturday, and stayed in that evening; the previous evening had been plenty. Besides, I knew I'd slip out for a few pints on Sunday afternoon while watching the Arsenal match.
How pleased I was on Sunday afternoon to see that my local had reopened: tables out on the terrace, people enjoying the sunshine. At last.
I had a good trip to the gym, then showered up and walked into the pub around 3.30 hoping to have a sandwich or something before the Arsenal match. Ray greeted me, and showed me the renovations that they had done in the past four weeks. Most importantly, the bar is much cleaner than before, and that's a huge plus. The fresh coats of paint, the rearrangement of the tables, the new sound system all look good, too.
My old stool was waiting for me, and I spent the next couple of hours just enjoying the return of the local. Arsenal didn't play all that well in their match against Fulham, but still won the game. Word was spreading quickly that the pub had reopened, so a lot of familiar faces were popping in for a pint or two. It was a bit of a reunion, if you will.
The pub had actually reopened the previous evening; I hadn't noticed because I was already in for the night. I was actually glad to have missed the opening, and Ray already said that the formal opening party wouldn't happen for a couple of weeks anyway.
I returned to the pub Monday night, hoping to see a lot of the folks that I hadn't seen in a few weeks, and was delighted to run into just about everyone I've met over the past months in Bornheim. English John and I greeted each other warmly, mentioning that we'd seen one another at the U-Bahn stop a couple of early mornings, neither of us wanting to talk much. We also planned to light the bar on fire (with a bit of zippo fuel) at some point in a few weeks, just for old times sake and to welcome the return of the pub.
In a way, the pub feels a bit different. Ray is a proper barman and has the place looking pretty sharp. But, not all of the old employees are back. It will take a bit of time before I can bring in music to play, but I'll slip something into the cd changer at some point. Still it's my local, and I'm pleased.
The first waitress that I met at the pub last December was a girl named Zena. She was exceptionally nice, but quit the job before the end of January. I heard later that she didn't get along with the owner. She works at a bank in Frankfurt along with her friend Heike, who's sister was actually the owner of the pub. Heike worked at the pub from time to time, also. Both of them came in about an hour after I arrived, and they made excellent company. Tomislav and Goran, my Serbian friends (and former employees of the pub) joined us and the five of us spent the next several hours chatting, laughing, and getting pretty oiled. Goran and I talked about the upcoming release of the Simonout album; Goran is spending a lot of time in the studio finishing the production. Zena has an awesome laugh, she tends to giggle constantly. So does Heike, for that matter. Both speak English very well, but pushed me to speak in German as much as possible. Practicing German with a couple of attractive German girls? Um, OK.
At 2.30am, we paid up, and all went our separate ways. An exceptional night, and I'm rewarded with a hell of a hangover today. Fortunately, it's May day, a holiday for much of Europe. So, I can recover without having to think much about work. Work is something I'll worry about on Wednesday.
Today is all about relaxing on my balcony, having a coffee, doing a bit of writing and guitar playing. I might have a shower later, but who knows.
I've been in Germany for five months, now. Pretty cool.
cheers
bryan
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Not Just Another Quiet Week
I told someone earlier this week that despite all the challenges I'm experiencing at work right now, I'm doing a pretty fair job at maintaining my sense of humor. I'll spare the majority of the details, mostly because shop talk doesn't always go over so well in conversation. Besides, I think there's only one regular reader of my stuff who works in the industry, and I'm quite sure, Derrick, that you've got your own set of challenges and battles that you're fighting.
Because of some of the problems that my repair facility faces presently, management executives and consultants frequently visit to get a better understanding of what is going on. I tend to take offense at this, because they usually come in and make a blanket statement to the effect that "no one seems to know what they're doing." OK, for the most part, they're right, but I've repeatedly had to stand up and say, "I am completely responsible for my repair program," and I'm starting to understand why so many people are surprised when I make that remark: no one else in the site tends to make that kind of statement.
True, I have to work more because many of my colleagues don't seem to take ownership of their assignments. Thus, I have to remind myself to babysit on a regular basis. This doesn't come easily and it's mostly at my expense. I'm quickly approaching 12-13 hour work days, and I'm still falling behind. After mentioning this to my manager, I was given an additional program to manage, and on top of that, found myself the new boss of everyone on my repair line: currently 7 people with about 20 more on the way. I've now got a better idea of what it must feel like for that unfortunate soul in the ocean trying to swim back to land against the 20 foot waves; when they try to yell for help, they end up swallowing about a gallon of water, very likely sealing their fate. I believe the expression I prefer to use is, "Estoy completemente jodido."
As I already mentioned, though, I haven't lost my sense of humor, and furthermore, don't believe I will. Take the other day for example. I was sitting at a bar called Sugar when I saw my friend Abu, the guy who used to work at my kebap shop and now just roams the streets of Bornheim bumming cigarettes from people like me. At Sugar's, they serve corn nuts as the bar snack (as opposed to peanuts or whatever). My brother in law is a pretty big fan of these hard as shit crunchy things, and I'm kind of fond of them myself. However, Abu is in a class of his own. He walked into the bar, didn't even order a drink, scooped a handful of corn nuts out and then continued walking down the street crunching merrily. He passed by two more times, each time taking the opportunity for another handful. "Man I love these!" he exclaimed each time to no one in particular. It's the little neighborhood things that make life so interesting and entertaining.
Last weekend, I was in the same bar, Sugar, having a few beers with Stefan and Veronica. Veronica is the girlfriend of Stefan's brother Tomas. Tomas was arriving back in Germany after having spent the last 12 months in Australia and New Zealand. Veronica had been down under for a fair amount of time herself, but was coming to greet her beau; Tomas was to arrive early on Sunday morning. So the three of us were enjoying some pints and having a pretty good conversation (Crunch Crunch Crunch...Abu passed by once) about art, music, language, and friends. Veronica speaks with an Australian accent, and it was a little bit unique to hear a German girl say things like "mate," or "shelia," or whatever. (note - this isn't all that surprising with non-native English speakers; I know a lot of Spanish that speak English with a very thick Irish accent).
We made it a rather early night, as Stefan and Veronica had to be at the airport around 6am the next morning to get Tomas. I took advantage of the good vibes that I was feeling and made a half drunk telephone call to Colorado, seeking a bit of a chat with one Whitman Stansbery. Alas, I got the answer machine, so I left a message that clearly showed that I was more than half drunk, then tumbled into bed for a rather decent night's sleep.
Like usual, Monday began OK, then I arrived at work, where things just went berserk: frantic customer phone calls about really silly things, colleagues trying to justify why they decided to ignore the written process and just do whatever the hell they felt like doing, managers assigning more responsibility, etc. I found myself smoking obscene amounts of cigarettes and trying to mask the rising hysteria in my voice while speaking on the telephone.
How glad I was to get a text message from Stefan inviting me to have a beer with his brother and him while travelling home on the train. I skipped the trip to the gym and was putting my gear up when the phone rang: Susi, calling up to meet for a drink. Sure, no problem.
I collected Susi at the U-Bahn, then headed to a bar to meet Stefan and Tomas. Tomas, after his year in Australia, looks like a surfer. Stefan is a bit more conservative, but acknowledged that before Tomas left, he and his brother looked a bit more alike. Stefan and Tomas are twins, but not identical. I have a close friend Jeff who, like Stefan, also has a nonidentical twin. I grew up with Jeff and Joel, and have always been fascinated at their relationship; it's different than having an older or younger sibling. Jeff and Joel have always had a cool brotherhood bond that is different than the bond I have with Lynne (never mind the fact that she's a sister), and it was interesting to me that Stefan described the bond he has with his brother in almost the exact way that Jeff and Joel explained it to me during our youth.
Tomas related a few tales of the outback, and managed to spill a beer inside of the bar. Funny that the first time I met Stefan, he spilled a beer in the bar, too. Life's little coincidences, eh?
Eventually, Tomas had to leave for the train station; he was returning to his home town that night. Stefan stayed around for another beer, then headed home, too, leaving Susi and I to continue a conversation that we've been having off and on over the times that I've seen her. She's young enough to raise an eyebrow, but nice and charming enough to make you proud to know her. Cute enough to attract quite a bit of attention from just about everyone, but not so beautiful that she's out of reach. She also happens to be the first girl I met in Frankfurt, and that was a cool thing. Not such a cool thing that her boyfriend is an American stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan (I never can I remember).
At any rate, Monday evening led to Tuesday, and I actually got so wrapped up in things at work that I briefly forgot my birthday. Fortunately my sister sent me a text message, then I checked the emails. It was nice to be remembered, and the emails really meant a lot, especially since the rest of the day at work was pretty awful. I wasn't in the best of moods on the way home from work at 9.30, but did get to talk to my folks, who were hanging out in Sevilla apparently absolutely clueless on how to make a telephone call from their mobile to me in Germany. I simply didn't have the strength to explain basic telecommunications to them for the 37th time. I always feel bad when I'm in a foul mood and talk to my parents; it's hard to express that you're happy to hear from them when you feel like everything fucking sucks. Alas, we did have a decent chat as I metroed home. I then stopped off for a kebap, and was sitting there when Lynne called up to wish birthday greetings. A super bonus was when my nephew (who should have been asleep already) sang Happy Birthday to me. Twins or no twins, I'm still very fortunate to have a super sister who somehow knows when to do the right things.
I woke up with a bit of enthusiasm on Wednesday, and vowed to have a better work day. It could have certainly gone worse, so on the way home I sent an sms to Susi to see if she felt like having a coffee. She's got a few telecommunications challenges of her own, so I really didn't expect to hear from her. I stopped off for a few groceries, then went home to have dinner. Around 10, Susi phoned to invite me out with her and a friend; they were going to another pub near the train station (yep, the Irish one) around 11. I foolishly said I'd come with, and around 11.30 was having a Guinness with Susi and a rather attractive girl named Fritzi. No, I didn't make that name up.
O'Reilly's isn't that bad of a pub, but it is a European chain. All of the employees tend to be native English speakers, and the pub caters to expats. My problem with that is that almost every time I've been in the place, its full of people that I don't really want to talk to. Susi, on the other hand, totally loves it. She actually is half American (though raised in Germany), and furthermore, believes that sometime in the next year, she will move with her boyfriend to the US where he will continue his military duties in the National Guard. Thus, she's very interested in improving her English.
The bar was crowded, but the three of us managed to find a table in the corner. We were waiting to be served, when Susi decided that she wanted to apply for a job on the spot. She headed to the bar, followed by Fritzi who wisely was trying to organize drinks, leaving me to sit in the corner staring at the wall, wondering just what the hell I was doing at this hour, knowing full well that Thursday and Friday in the office were going to be super busy.
After a few minutes passed without the return of either of the girls, I waved down a waitress and ordered a round of drinks. Two minutes after they arrived, Fritzi returned to our table to tell me that they'd found a spot at the bar, so I paid the waitress for the round, and walked up to the bar (it's kind of a big bar, this place) to find two English football hooligans chatting up Fritzi and Susi, who was particularly loving the attention.
Introductions were made, and then Susi got a job application and began to figure it out with hooligan number 2. The app was totally in English, of course. Meanwhile, I talked to hooligan number 1, who was wearing a West Ham jersey and commenting about the hammers loss to Chelsea earlier in the evening. West Ham are almost certain to be relegated; this had been their last chance to secure a few points to keep them safe.
I had actually been joking to myself that these guys were hooligans, but during our conversation, I realized that I was spot on. It didn't help matters when hooligan number 1 showed me his mobile phone, which had the West Ham firm logo as the wallpaper. This guy went on to tell me that he wasn't really involved any more, then went on to say that he knew a great many of the people that were involved in the production of Green Street Hooligans, and he missed the action of the old days.
Oh. Fuck.
The guy was good natured enough; he now works in Frankfurt in money markets. Both 1 and 2 had been here for about 5 or 6 years, and neither of them speaks a lick of German. Impressive.
I was already starting to get a bit annoyed with the whole situation, as I realized that hooligan number 2 was really interested in scoring with one or both of my friends. I'm not one that really likes to be in that situation, and hooligan or not, I was hacked that it was now close to 1am, the bar was closing, I'd hardly had any conversation with either of the girls myself, and I was going to have to taxi back to Bornheim soon.
Well, the two guys had an early start the next day, also, but tried one last time to get my friends to accompany them home, without success, thank goodness. No sooner had they stepped out of the pub, then hooligan number 3 walked over; he'd been at another table and was actually a part of another firm. However, he had the same agenda, though, and started to do the "2 minutes til bar close better chat the girl up quickest way possible" routine, and had a bit better luck. The barman kicked us out, and hooligan number 3 invited Susi to come have a drink around the corner. She was delighted to do so, and Fritzi, who was just happy to be out for a night and wasn't ready to go home either, was the same.
I stopped at the corner and gave the, "see you later, got an early start in the morning" which prompted a bit of coaxing from Fritzi, who didn't want me to go. But, she gave a friendly good bye, then, after a moment, Susi did, also, then they continued down the street with hooligan number 3. I walked back to the train station, gave some high fives to the heroin addicts still hanging about, then caught a taxi home, feeling a bit irritated with things, including myself.
It occurred to me that Susi was very used to the situation, so I wasn't really worried for either of the girls' safety. Furthermore, I have very little experience with having swarms of people trying to chat me up on a regular basis, but understand perfectly well that girls their age are certainly going to appreciate the attention. I wasn't particularly thrilled, however, to be standing there and listening to hooligan number 3 get the same chat up that had interested me several months back when I met Susi for the first time.
I thought about everything on the Thursday morning commute, and realized the absurdity of it all. Every girl I've ever met at her age has tended to act the same way. In fact, it was perfectly normal. So, who am I to pass judgement, especially since I already know most of the facts? Young girl, finishing nursing school, boyfriend far away, seeking attention from males, particularly English speakers, not easy.
I doubt if she actually has a personal ad like that, but so what if she does?
She is quite a bit more mature than this piece suggests, and perhaps more importantly, she's not nearly as superficial as it might seem.
So, after a little reflection, I was totally OK with everything, and look forward to seeing her sometime again. I arrived to work feeling relieved that I'd sorted that out, and then opened up my emails to find a surprise, my buddy Whitman had forwarded an email giving news that on April 16th, he'd gotten married to Andrea, his partner of the past 12 years.
I couldn't have felt more proud Thursday morning. Interesting that I tried to phone him over the weekend, only to find out a few days later why he wasn't at home. Interesting that while I was having beers on Monday evening wondering why he hadn't responded to my message, only to find out that he was doing something quite a bit more important.
I first met Andrea in Pennsylvania back in 1996, while I was living in Boston. Whit and Andrea met at Penn State during university, and have been together ever since. Whit and I hung out rather often during my two years in the northeast, and Whit made it to Dallas in October of 1998 after I'd returned.
Sadly, I have not seen either of them since that time, though we talked frequently over the next 8 years. Whit and Andrea relocated to Colorado and have made quite the nice life for themselves; a life that I've only heard about as the travel schedules were difficult to manage.
In 2005, Whit had mentioned that after 10 years of being together, they had made the decision to marry officially. I was proud and honored to be informed, and at the time planned to attend the ceremony. Well, I'd wondered from time to time about things over the past two years. Whit and Andrea's families live in PA, so arrangements were going to require planning.
Unfortunately, I've lost a bit of touch with Whit in the past 12 months (thus the drunk phone call last Saturday), but like with all of my friends, I never stop thinking about them.
So, Whit and Andrea, many congratulations! I look forward to seeing the pix and hearing the stories of the trip to Hawaii.
With all the rough moments life is throwing my way right now, my week has been positive for three key bits. My nephew singing Happy Birthday to me, Whit and Andrea married, and a nice
reminder about a certain football fixture in the English premiership.
Last year around this time, Chris and I met up in London for our first Arsenal match. Arsenal and Tottenham tied that day, but the weekend was absolutely brilliant (reread the events of that weekend from my post last April).
This year, the fixture is home to Tottenham, and in a couple of hours, I will go to O'Reilly's pub to watch the match. I may not like the pub's patron's all that much, but they're showing the match there, so there you have it.
I'll talk more about pubs in the near future; I think my local is about to reopen.
While my pieces may have a pessimistic tone about them, those of you who have seen glimpses of the true life of Bryan know full well that I'm still always laughing on the inside, still overly pessimistic, and still absolutely thrilled with my experiences here. Sure, I smirk a lot, but at least I do it in German.
Thanks for your thoughts and support. C'mon Arsenal!
keep the faith
bryan
Soundtrack:
The Exploited - Driving Me Insane
Chick Corea and Bobby McFerrin - Mozart N. 23 in A Major
Old 97's - Nineteen
Maná - Como Un Perro Enloquecido
Bouncing Souls - True Believer
Because of some of the problems that my repair facility faces presently, management executives and consultants frequently visit to get a better understanding of what is going on. I tend to take offense at this, because they usually come in and make a blanket statement to the effect that "no one seems to know what they're doing." OK, for the most part, they're right, but I've repeatedly had to stand up and say, "I am completely responsible for my repair program," and I'm starting to understand why so many people are surprised when I make that remark: no one else in the site tends to make that kind of statement.
True, I have to work more because many of my colleagues don't seem to take ownership of their assignments. Thus, I have to remind myself to babysit on a regular basis. This doesn't come easily and it's mostly at my expense. I'm quickly approaching 12-13 hour work days, and I'm still falling behind. After mentioning this to my manager, I was given an additional program to manage, and on top of that, found myself the new boss of everyone on my repair line: currently 7 people with about 20 more on the way. I've now got a better idea of what it must feel like for that unfortunate soul in the ocean trying to swim back to land against the 20 foot waves; when they try to yell for help, they end up swallowing about a gallon of water, very likely sealing their fate. I believe the expression I prefer to use is, "Estoy completemente jodido."
As I already mentioned, though, I haven't lost my sense of humor, and furthermore, don't believe I will. Take the other day for example. I was sitting at a bar called Sugar when I saw my friend Abu, the guy who used to work at my kebap shop and now just roams the streets of Bornheim bumming cigarettes from people like me. At Sugar's, they serve corn nuts as the bar snack (as opposed to peanuts or whatever). My brother in law is a pretty big fan of these hard as shit crunchy things, and I'm kind of fond of them myself. However, Abu is in a class of his own. He walked into the bar, didn't even order a drink, scooped a handful of corn nuts out and then continued walking down the street crunching merrily. He passed by two more times, each time taking the opportunity for another handful. "Man I love these!" he exclaimed each time to no one in particular. It's the little neighborhood things that make life so interesting and entertaining.
Last weekend, I was in the same bar, Sugar, having a few beers with Stefan and Veronica. Veronica is the girlfriend of Stefan's brother Tomas. Tomas was arriving back in Germany after having spent the last 12 months in Australia and New Zealand. Veronica had been down under for a fair amount of time herself, but was coming to greet her beau; Tomas was to arrive early on Sunday morning. So the three of us were enjoying some pints and having a pretty good conversation (Crunch Crunch Crunch...Abu passed by once) about art, music, language, and friends. Veronica speaks with an Australian accent, and it was a little bit unique to hear a German girl say things like "mate," or "shelia," or whatever. (note - this isn't all that surprising with non-native English speakers; I know a lot of Spanish that speak English with a very thick Irish accent).
We made it a rather early night, as Stefan and Veronica had to be at the airport around 6am the next morning to get Tomas. I took advantage of the good vibes that I was feeling and made a half drunk telephone call to Colorado, seeking a bit of a chat with one Whitman Stansbery. Alas, I got the answer machine, so I left a message that clearly showed that I was more than half drunk, then tumbled into bed for a rather decent night's sleep.
Like usual, Monday began OK, then I arrived at work, where things just went berserk: frantic customer phone calls about really silly things, colleagues trying to justify why they decided to ignore the written process and just do whatever the hell they felt like doing, managers assigning more responsibility, etc. I found myself smoking obscene amounts of cigarettes and trying to mask the rising hysteria in my voice while speaking on the telephone.
How glad I was to get a text message from Stefan inviting me to have a beer with his brother and him while travelling home on the train. I skipped the trip to the gym and was putting my gear up when the phone rang: Susi, calling up to meet for a drink. Sure, no problem.
I collected Susi at the U-Bahn, then headed to a bar to meet Stefan and Tomas. Tomas, after his year in Australia, looks like a surfer. Stefan is a bit more conservative, but acknowledged that before Tomas left, he and his brother looked a bit more alike. Stefan and Tomas are twins, but not identical. I have a close friend Jeff who, like Stefan, also has a nonidentical twin. I grew up with Jeff and Joel, and have always been fascinated at their relationship; it's different than having an older or younger sibling. Jeff and Joel have always had a cool brotherhood bond that is different than the bond I have with Lynne (never mind the fact that she's a sister), and it was interesting to me that Stefan described the bond he has with his brother in almost the exact way that Jeff and Joel explained it to me during our youth.
Tomas related a few tales of the outback, and managed to spill a beer inside of the bar. Funny that the first time I met Stefan, he spilled a beer in the bar, too. Life's little coincidences, eh?
Eventually, Tomas had to leave for the train station; he was returning to his home town that night. Stefan stayed around for another beer, then headed home, too, leaving Susi and I to continue a conversation that we've been having off and on over the times that I've seen her. She's young enough to raise an eyebrow, but nice and charming enough to make you proud to know her. Cute enough to attract quite a bit of attention from just about everyone, but not so beautiful that she's out of reach. She also happens to be the first girl I met in Frankfurt, and that was a cool thing. Not such a cool thing that her boyfriend is an American stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan (I never can I remember).
At any rate, Monday evening led to Tuesday, and I actually got so wrapped up in things at work that I briefly forgot my birthday. Fortunately my sister sent me a text message, then I checked the emails. It was nice to be remembered, and the emails really meant a lot, especially since the rest of the day at work was pretty awful. I wasn't in the best of moods on the way home from work at 9.30, but did get to talk to my folks, who were hanging out in Sevilla apparently absolutely clueless on how to make a telephone call from their mobile to me in Germany. I simply didn't have the strength to explain basic telecommunications to them for the 37th time. I always feel bad when I'm in a foul mood and talk to my parents; it's hard to express that you're happy to hear from them when you feel like everything fucking sucks. Alas, we did have a decent chat as I metroed home. I then stopped off for a kebap, and was sitting there when Lynne called up to wish birthday greetings. A super bonus was when my nephew (who should have been asleep already) sang Happy Birthday to me. Twins or no twins, I'm still very fortunate to have a super sister who somehow knows when to do the right things.
I woke up with a bit of enthusiasm on Wednesday, and vowed to have a better work day. It could have certainly gone worse, so on the way home I sent an sms to Susi to see if she felt like having a coffee. She's got a few telecommunications challenges of her own, so I really didn't expect to hear from her. I stopped off for a few groceries, then went home to have dinner. Around 10, Susi phoned to invite me out with her and a friend; they were going to another pub near the train station (yep, the Irish one) around 11. I foolishly said I'd come with, and around 11.30 was having a Guinness with Susi and a rather attractive girl named Fritzi. No, I didn't make that name up.
O'Reilly's isn't that bad of a pub, but it is a European chain. All of the employees tend to be native English speakers, and the pub caters to expats. My problem with that is that almost every time I've been in the place, its full of people that I don't really want to talk to. Susi, on the other hand, totally loves it. She actually is half American (though raised in Germany), and furthermore, believes that sometime in the next year, she will move with her boyfriend to the US where he will continue his military duties in the National Guard. Thus, she's very interested in improving her English.
The bar was crowded, but the three of us managed to find a table in the corner. We were waiting to be served, when Susi decided that she wanted to apply for a job on the spot. She headed to the bar, followed by Fritzi who wisely was trying to organize drinks, leaving me to sit in the corner staring at the wall, wondering just what the hell I was doing at this hour, knowing full well that Thursday and Friday in the office were going to be super busy.
After a few minutes passed without the return of either of the girls, I waved down a waitress and ordered a round of drinks. Two minutes after they arrived, Fritzi returned to our table to tell me that they'd found a spot at the bar, so I paid the waitress for the round, and walked up to the bar (it's kind of a big bar, this place) to find two English football hooligans chatting up Fritzi and Susi, who was particularly loving the attention.
Introductions were made, and then Susi got a job application and began to figure it out with hooligan number 2. The app was totally in English, of course. Meanwhile, I talked to hooligan number 1, who was wearing a West Ham jersey and commenting about the hammers loss to Chelsea earlier in the evening. West Ham are almost certain to be relegated; this had been their last chance to secure a few points to keep them safe.
I had actually been joking to myself that these guys were hooligans, but during our conversation, I realized that I was spot on. It didn't help matters when hooligan number 1 showed me his mobile phone, which had the West Ham firm logo as the wallpaper. This guy went on to tell me that he wasn't really involved any more, then went on to say that he knew a great many of the people that were involved in the production of Green Street Hooligans, and he missed the action of the old days.
Oh. Fuck.
The guy was good natured enough; he now works in Frankfurt in money markets. Both 1 and 2 had been here for about 5 or 6 years, and neither of them speaks a lick of German. Impressive.
I was already starting to get a bit annoyed with the whole situation, as I realized that hooligan number 2 was really interested in scoring with one or both of my friends. I'm not one that really likes to be in that situation, and hooligan or not, I was hacked that it was now close to 1am, the bar was closing, I'd hardly had any conversation with either of the girls myself, and I was going to have to taxi back to Bornheim soon.
Well, the two guys had an early start the next day, also, but tried one last time to get my friends to accompany them home, without success, thank goodness. No sooner had they stepped out of the pub, then hooligan number 3 walked over; he'd been at another table and was actually a part of another firm. However, he had the same agenda, though, and started to do the "2 minutes til bar close better chat the girl up quickest way possible" routine, and had a bit better luck. The barman kicked us out, and hooligan number 3 invited Susi to come have a drink around the corner. She was delighted to do so, and Fritzi, who was just happy to be out for a night and wasn't ready to go home either, was the same.
I stopped at the corner and gave the, "see you later, got an early start in the morning" which prompted a bit of coaxing from Fritzi, who didn't want me to go. But, she gave a friendly good bye, then, after a moment, Susi did, also, then they continued down the street with hooligan number 3. I walked back to the train station, gave some high fives to the heroin addicts still hanging about, then caught a taxi home, feeling a bit irritated with things, including myself.
It occurred to me that Susi was very used to the situation, so I wasn't really worried for either of the girls' safety. Furthermore, I have very little experience with having swarms of people trying to chat me up on a regular basis, but understand perfectly well that girls their age are certainly going to appreciate the attention. I wasn't particularly thrilled, however, to be standing there and listening to hooligan number 3 get the same chat up that had interested me several months back when I met Susi for the first time.
I thought about everything on the Thursday morning commute, and realized the absurdity of it all. Every girl I've ever met at her age has tended to act the same way. In fact, it was perfectly normal. So, who am I to pass judgement, especially since I already know most of the facts? Young girl, finishing nursing school, boyfriend far away, seeking attention from males, particularly English speakers, not easy.
I doubt if she actually has a personal ad like that, but so what if she does?
She is quite a bit more mature than this piece suggests, and perhaps more importantly, she's not nearly as superficial as it might seem.
So, after a little reflection, I was totally OK with everything, and look forward to seeing her sometime again. I arrived to work feeling relieved that I'd sorted that out, and then opened up my emails to find a surprise, my buddy Whitman had forwarded an email giving news that on April 16th, he'd gotten married to Andrea, his partner of the past 12 years.
I couldn't have felt more proud Thursday morning. Interesting that I tried to phone him over the weekend, only to find out a few days later why he wasn't at home. Interesting that while I was having beers on Monday evening wondering why he hadn't responded to my message, only to find out that he was doing something quite a bit more important.
I first met Andrea in Pennsylvania back in 1996, while I was living in Boston. Whit and Andrea met at Penn State during university, and have been together ever since. Whit and I hung out rather often during my two years in the northeast, and Whit made it to Dallas in October of 1998 after I'd returned.
Sadly, I have not seen either of them since that time, though we talked frequently over the next 8 years. Whit and Andrea relocated to Colorado and have made quite the nice life for themselves; a life that I've only heard about as the travel schedules were difficult to manage.
In 2005, Whit had mentioned that after 10 years of being together, they had made the decision to marry officially. I was proud and honored to be informed, and at the time planned to attend the ceremony. Well, I'd wondered from time to time about things over the past two years. Whit and Andrea's families live in PA, so arrangements were going to require planning.
Unfortunately, I've lost a bit of touch with Whit in the past 12 months (thus the drunk phone call last Saturday), but like with all of my friends, I never stop thinking about them.
So, Whit and Andrea, many congratulations! I look forward to seeing the pix and hearing the stories of the trip to Hawaii.
With all the rough moments life is throwing my way right now, my week has been positive for three key bits. My nephew singing Happy Birthday to me, Whit and Andrea married, and a nice
reminder about a certain football fixture in the English premiership.
Last year around this time, Chris and I met up in London for our first Arsenal match. Arsenal and Tottenham tied that day, but the weekend was absolutely brilliant (reread the events of that weekend from my post last April).
This year, the fixture is home to Tottenham, and in a couple of hours, I will go to O'Reilly's pub to watch the match. I may not like the pub's patron's all that much, but they're showing the match there, so there you have it.
I'll talk more about pubs in the near future; I think my local is about to reopen.
While my pieces may have a pessimistic tone about them, those of you who have seen glimpses of the true life of Bryan know full well that I'm still always laughing on the inside, still overly pessimistic, and still absolutely thrilled with my experiences here. Sure, I smirk a lot, but at least I do it in German.
Thanks for your thoughts and support. C'mon Arsenal!
keep the faith
bryan
Soundtrack:
The Exploited - Driving Me Insane
Chick Corea and Bobby McFerrin - Mozart N. 23 in A Major
Old 97's - Nineteen
Maná - Como Un Perro Enloquecido
Bouncing Souls - True Believer
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Random Thoughts, Sidewalk Cafes, and Poor Posts
I've only got time to jot down a few notes; I'm absolutely buried with work this week, which is unlike the previous weeks where I've just been sitting about reading magazines and playing solitaire.
Once again, I've managed to complete my taxes before the deadline. Thanks to online turbo tax, and the fact that I really didn't have any income for last year. (Cool that I could file on line; not so cool that my dad sent me everything but my w-2 a few weeks back. Fortunately he read me the numbers over the telephone, which made for a very nice Easter.)
I think it's great that friends of mine in the states are moving into new houses. I think it sucks that I've got to find a new apartment in a few months.
I think it's great that after a horrid day at work this past Tuesday, I had a super productive day on Wednesday, celebrated by having a few beers at a sidewalk cafe on Berger Strasse.
Spring has definitely hit Frankfurt; you need a jacket at night, but only for a few minutes. The streets tend to be quite full of people this time of year. I definitely live in a great neighborhood. Supercool.
I hope that I can overcome my fear of walking from the main train station in Frankfurt to the pub across the street. You basically have to pass a group of people (aka...heroin addicts) that all want to give you high fives. I constantly get hit up for smokes, too. A bit unnerving...kind of like all those kids' personal fears from Steven King's IT. (Actually, it's not nearly that bad, but there are more than several unfortunate souls walking around the streets that tend to say something to the effect of, "blow you for a dime..." Kind of creepy.)
Financial frustration of the week - I'm battling management on determining the number of resources I need to allocate to my program. They're using the "here's what our EBIT must be, so therefore, you can only have x people," approach, and it basically means that I either have to quickly get an MBA in managerial financial bullshit next weekend so I can beat them at their own game, or will have to fix 8 laptops each day in addition to all the other stuff that I've got to do.
Irony is being told that I have to do more each day at work (just in: fix 8 laptops each day), but am restricted to working less than 50 hours a week. If I exceed 50 hours a week, I might get in trouble with the Works Council (a group of representatives/employees in my facility that tries to argue that an employee who has worked at the same desk for the last 6 years should not have to move, even though the rest of his department has moved to another area of the repair facility. In one particular case, where the employee's department required him to be situated upstairs (where formerly he had been downstairs), the employee indicated that if he moved upstairs, he would never come downstairs again.)
Logic is something that eludes many people. In the example above, the employee who will never come downstairs again might be hard pressed to exit the building; the front door is downstairs). More frightening is that the Works Council seemed to believe that this was a sufficient compromise. Hmmm.
Yep. My apologies. This has been one hell of a crappy piece of writing. I just needed a quick "get this stuff off my chest moment".
Thanks for the Easter greetings and all that.
Hooray to the Halls for getting a new dog.
Hope the move went well Jeff, and that you're settling in nicely. Thanks for looking after the padres house.
Yolanda, I've got a colleague that used to work at that German camera company you told me about last year. Come to Frankfurt soon!
For Derrick - I've finally got a white board up; first thing I've written, like before: babysit.
Moe - doing the Spanish thing again! Super cool. I'll see if I can slip over while you're there.
Jose Miguel - have a Guinness for me (and yourself) at Finnegan's. Tell everyone hello from me, and also send recuerdos to Gemma.
Heather - hope the hula hut trip went well and you didn't blow the whole budget on something silly like wedding attire.
Kitzie - Happy belated birthday!
To Goliad - somehow I'm not getting the photo updates of the little ones. Thanks for the odd jpeg.
For those of you looking for commentary on Arsenal football, you'll have to wait until August. I was always taught that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
Avril Lavigne - Girlfriend
Starship - Knee Deep in the Hoopla
Stiff Little Fingers - Back to Front
Alkaline Trio - Back to Hell
Shelia E - The Glamorous Life
Once again, I've managed to complete my taxes before the deadline. Thanks to online turbo tax, and the fact that I really didn't have any income for last year. (Cool that I could file on line; not so cool that my dad sent me everything but my w-2 a few weeks back. Fortunately he read me the numbers over the telephone, which made for a very nice Easter.)
I think it's great that friends of mine in the states are moving into new houses. I think it sucks that I've got to find a new apartment in a few months.
I think it's great that after a horrid day at work this past Tuesday, I had a super productive day on Wednesday, celebrated by having a few beers at a sidewalk cafe on Berger Strasse.
Spring has definitely hit Frankfurt; you need a jacket at night, but only for a few minutes. The streets tend to be quite full of people this time of year. I definitely live in a great neighborhood. Supercool.
I hope that I can overcome my fear of walking from the main train station in Frankfurt to the pub across the street. You basically have to pass a group of people (aka...heroin addicts) that all want to give you high fives. I constantly get hit up for smokes, too. A bit unnerving...kind of like all those kids' personal fears from Steven King's IT. (Actually, it's not nearly that bad, but there are more than several unfortunate souls walking around the streets that tend to say something to the effect of, "blow you for a dime..." Kind of creepy.)
Financial frustration of the week - I'm battling management on determining the number of resources I need to allocate to my program. They're using the "here's what our EBIT must be, so therefore, you can only have x people," approach, and it basically means that I either have to quickly get an MBA in managerial financial bullshit next weekend so I can beat them at their own game, or will have to fix 8 laptops each day in addition to all the other stuff that I've got to do.
Irony is being told that I have to do more each day at work (just in: fix 8 laptops each day), but am restricted to working less than 50 hours a week. If I exceed 50 hours a week, I might get in trouble with the Works Council (a group of representatives/employees in my facility that tries to argue that an employee who has worked at the same desk for the last 6 years should not have to move, even though the rest of his department has moved to another area of the repair facility. In one particular case, where the employee's department required him to be situated upstairs (where formerly he had been downstairs), the employee indicated that if he moved upstairs, he would never come downstairs again.)
Logic is something that eludes many people. In the example above, the employee who will never come downstairs again might be hard pressed to exit the building; the front door is downstairs). More frightening is that the Works Council seemed to believe that this was a sufficient compromise. Hmmm.
Yep. My apologies. This has been one hell of a crappy piece of writing. I just needed a quick "get this stuff off my chest moment".
Thanks for the Easter greetings and all that.
Hooray to the Halls for getting a new dog.
Hope the move went well Jeff, and that you're settling in nicely. Thanks for looking after the padres house.
Yolanda, I've got a colleague that used to work at that German camera company you told me about last year. Come to Frankfurt soon!
For Derrick - I've finally got a white board up; first thing I've written, like before: babysit.
Moe - doing the Spanish thing again! Super cool. I'll see if I can slip over while you're there.
Jose Miguel - have a Guinness for me (and yourself) at Finnegan's. Tell everyone hello from me, and also send recuerdos to Gemma.
Heather - hope the hula hut trip went well and you didn't blow the whole budget on something silly like wedding attire.
Kitzie - Happy belated birthday!
To Goliad - somehow I'm not getting the photo updates of the little ones. Thanks for the odd jpeg.
For those of you looking for commentary on Arsenal football, you'll have to wait until August. I was always taught that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
Avril Lavigne - Girlfriend
Starship - Knee Deep in the Hoopla
Stiff Little Fingers - Back to Front
Alkaline Trio - Back to Hell
Shelia E - The Glamorous Life
Sunday, April 08, 2007
At Last! A Break from the Action
I think this may be the first time ever where I've been by myself on Easter. Personally, I'm enjoying the experience in my own quiet way. Germany celebrates both Good Friday and Easter Monday, and with the way things have been going at work, I desperately needed a couple of days to regroup.
The week began positively enough; I made it into the gym Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. A definite first for my experience in Germany hitting the gym three days in a row. Here's to me getting back into that routine.
Stefan sent me an SMS on Tuesday evening to see if I felt like meeting for a beer at the pub. I accepted on the grounds that I'd stayed away from pints for most of the previous weekend; the alcohol intake sessions over recent weeks/months have been getting a little too frequent.
We watched the second half of the Liverpool game as we chatted about the upcoming holiday weekend. Stefan was heading home to Dresden later in the week to be with his parents. It was interesting to hear the perspective of a German catholic who has had a similar upbringing regarding religion (albeit a different denomination). His family follows certain traditions during Easter weekend; those traditions are very special to Stefan. Our conversation was somewhat interrupted by Abu, who joined us for a pint (and to borrow a few cigs).
Apparently Abu quit his job at the kebap shop last week, and is now unemployed. Furthermore, he's got some personal troubles that he felt inclined to talk about, which made for a few moments of awkwardness.
Bornheim can be a funny place. A lot of people seem to know one another, and particularly about each other's past. Since I'm new, a lot of this has escaped me, as I have simply been trying to get settled instead of trying to get the scoop on everyone.
I'm not that big a fan of knowing everyone's business, but that doesn't mean I can completely get away from it.
For example, Heike is the sister of Katja. Katja, along with her partner Noel, actually owns the Irish Pub. Katja isn't the most pleasant of people, but Noel has always been cool. The fact is, neither of them have been around all that much in the past few months. Heike and Katja grew up with my buddy Stefan; this was something that he didn't discover until about six weeks back.
Recently, Heike started going out with a guy (an American, no less), but a couple of Friday's back, Stefan and I were in the pub and ran into her; she was drinking herself silly due to the fact that apparently this guy had dumped her. In effort to make her feel a bit better, Stefan and I periodically did the wave to her. Yes, the very same wave that we've done more than once at Dallas Burn games in past seasons under Brandon's supervision.
Of course, it was just Stefan and myself doing this, so the effect was not significant and probably fuelled by the tequila shots. That said, Heike did feel better, and we were glad. She's actually a pretty nice girl, and as I've been discovering, quite the opposite to her sister.
That evening ended with me exclaiming loudly that it was absolutely impossible for me to listen to another minute of the Doors, so I grabbed the first CD I could find and stuffed it in the pub's stereo. Thankfully, it was the Police, and went over well with the remaining patrons of the bar.
At it was almost 3, there weren't too many people left. I had a bit of a chat with my friend Susi, then got a little shy, and buggered off home.
As mentioned already, I stayed away from beer for the rest of the weekend. I only returned to the pub on Saturday afternoon for several mineral waters and an absolutely horrible experience watching Liverpool maul Arsenal 4-1. I was OK with the Irish guy, Ray, that was there. He's a Liverpool fan, but not one to rub it in, especially after he knew good and well that Arsenal had already beaten Liverpool three times during the season. I couldn't say the same for Abu, who wandered in, sat down, and then wouldn't shut up for the entire second half. "Oh, this is a really good football game, really exciting!"
People like Tim, Chris, Steve, and Brandon know just exactly how annoying this can be, and it took a whole lot of effort not to make some comment like, "please insert your hand in your mouth before I help you." I'm not a psycho fan by any means; I just don't like to hear a lot of unnecessary commentary when it's perfectly clear that my team is playing like hell.
So, back to midweek: I was back in the pub Wednesday evening to watch the Chelsea-Valencia match, looking forward to a little chat with Susi, when Stefan walked in with Heike. I was a bit surprised, as he had already indicated that he'd see me after Easter break. Slightly more interesting was the fact that I was having a chat with Heike's recent beau. Fortunately, things didn't get out of control emotionally, at least because of them.
The biggest surprise was upon entering the bar that night, I was greeted by glum faces from Tomislav and Susi: the management had decided to sell the bar, and the following night would be the last night of the bar.
Immediately I was shocked, concerned, and frankly, a bit worried about what I would do for a local. Upon further questioning, I found that yes, Katja and Noel had decided to sell the bar and close up the night before Good Friday, all without informing any of the staff.
Certainly this was a very unprofessional thing to do (reminiscent of the final hour of Club Dada), but as I sat there, I considered the positives. First, neither Katja nor Noel seemed to have much experience running the bar, and though they'd had it for at least the last two years, I had been hearing more and more stories about how crap the place was becoming.
I had certainly not been impressed with various facets of my local: I don't like karaoke, and could also do without the bingo and quiz nights. The live music on weekends tended to be OK, but sometimes it was nice to just have Goran put in a CD. The food was always good, but the place seemed to suffer from a lack of attention. There were times when you weren't sure what you were standing in in the gent's toilet, and paper towels were always a rarity.
Zena, Jim, and Isis had all quit or been terminated since New Year's; I particularly missed seeing Zena and Isis, who were always quick to smile. I'd heard rumours that they'd been let go because of altercations with Katja or Noel. Since Tom and Goran were always around, I was comforted that at least my go to guys were there to keep the bar going. The addition of my friend Susi was nice, also. Unfortunately, she, too, had been given some stick by Noel and Katja.
Still, my place was on the patron side of the bar, which meant that I could quietly have my drinks, be polite, and from time to time light the bar on fire with English John; our way of amusing ourselves during lulls in the action on any given night.
As it turns out, Irish Ray is taking over the pub, along with the help of another Irishman named Ender. I've met both guys before, and I'm actually pretty encouraged by the turn of events.
Wednesday evening ended on a decent note: I basically closed the place down in celebration with Goran, Tomis, and Susi. Around 2.30, I grabbed the metal caps off of a few of the taps and headed home with the plan to return Thursday evening for the last hurrah.
Thursday morning started late, and I was fortunate that it was the last day of the work week. I found that I could grab a train an hour later than usual and still make it to work just before 9am, so long as I took a cab from Darmstadt hauptbahnhof to the office, which does require an extra 10 euros.
It was a pretty busy day at work, but I knew that I'd have Friday through Monday to just be quiet, what with my pub closing and the Easter holiday (and lack of plans). I got through the day, and left around 6.
My goal was to get to the cool bookstore in Frankfurt and purchase some language learning software; I've not been comfortable with my progress in German. Fortunately, Hugendubel had just what I was looking for, so I picked that up, then stopped off at the ReWe for the groceries I would need for the rest of the weekend; everything would be closed on Friday, Sunday, and Monday. I'd pick up additional staples if needed on Saturday.
So, I stepped into the pub for one last night with Goran and Tomislav around 8pm Thursday evening. As expected, a lot of regulars had gotten the news of the closure, so the place steadily filled up as the hour approached 10pm. Much the way the states experiences a great buzz on the night before Thanksgiving, the eve of Karfreitag (Good Friday) generates the same level of excitement, especially if the pub is closing.
I caught up with most of the regulars that I've met over the past few months. We talked about how encouraged we felt that Ray and Ender would be reopening in a few short weeks with a new approach to the local pub. At least, the place will have a new coat of paint, and I'm fairly certain the toilets will be OK.
Tomislav and Goran served drinks freely, as if they were soon to be unemployed. I'm sorry that the circumstances were as such, but both seemed rather pleased, actually. I'll continue to see the both of them out and about, so it's not as if this was a time for goodbyes.
For me, it was just a bit sad that my local is changing so dramatically, only four months after I've been here. However, several people were explaining how much better things were previously. They went on to relate many funny stories of other regulars and employees; the same kind of drama that you tend to experience at your local. It's not all that different than Kelly and Gabe leaving the Old Monk (or when David left, for that matter). Everyone has to move on at some point, and it's all about shaking hands and saying, "auf weidersehen!".
Sure, I stayed til close on Thursday, leaving Goran, Tom, and John to finish the very last bit.
I woke up around 2pm on Friday, and looked forward to peace and quiet for the next several days. Everyone I know was off to spend Easter with their family. Barbara was going to Slovakia for a few weeks, Stefan was already in Dresden, and Susi was in Hanau.
So, save for a trip to the gym on Saturday and a quick trip to the supermarket, I've been hanging out around the house, catching up on emails, trying to do taxes, and just resting. I've got some work I need to do which I will hope to bang out later today and Monday. Part of that will catch me up, and part will put me ahead.
I was fortunate to have a little Skype time with Los Pascal on Friday; nice webcam Pablo. Thanks for the chat, thanks for the advice, and tell Jen to be a bit more careful next time she walks through the room when the camera is on...
I hope to talk to my folks later today, and with a little luck, Lynne, Fran, and Daniel, also. That will make for a nice little Easter.
The significance of today doesn't escape me, but I needed to spend this year alone in my own thoughts. I'm probably the only guy listening to Alkaline Trio on Easter Sunday, but hey, there you have it.
keep the faith
bryan
The week began positively enough; I made it into the gym Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. A definite first for my experience in Germany hitting the gym three days in a row. Here's to me getting back into that routine.
Stefan sent me an SMS on Tuesday evening to see if I felt like meeting for a beer at the pub. I accepted on the grounds that I'd stayed away from pints for most of the previous weekend; the alcohol intake sessions over recent weeks/months have been getting a little too frequent.
We watched the second half of the Liverpool game as we chatted about the upcoming holiday weekend. Stefan was heading home to Dresden later in the week to be with his parents. It was interesting to hear the perspective of a German catholic who has had a similar upbringing regarding religion (albeit a different denomination). His family follows certain traditions during Easter weekend; those traditions are very special to Stefan. Our conversation was somewhat interrupted by Abu, who joined us for a pint (and to borrow a few cigs).
Apparently Abu quit his job at the kebap shop last week, and is now unemployed. Furthermore, he's got some personal troubles that he felt inclined to talk about, which made for a few moments of awkwardness.
Bornheim can be a funny place. A lot of people seem to know one another, and particularly about each other's past. Since I'm new, a lot of this has escaped me, as I have simply been trying to get settled instead of trying to get the scoop on everyone.
I'm not that big a fan of knowing everyone's business, but that doesn't mean I can completely get away from it.
For example, Heike is the sister of Katja. Katja, along with her partner Noel, actually owns the Irish Pub. Katja isn't the most pleasant of people, but Noel has always been cool. The fact is, neither of them have been around all that much in the past few months. Heike and Katja grew up with my buddy Stefan; this was something that he didn't discover until about six weeks back.
Recently, Heike started going out with a guy (an American, no less), but a couple of Friday's back, Stefan and I were in the pub and ran into her; she was drinking herself silly due to the fact that apparently this guy had dumped her. In effort to make her feel a bit better, Stefan and I periodically did the wave to her. Yes, the very same wave that we've done more than once at Dallas Burn games in past seasons under Brandon's supervision.
Of course, it was just Stefan and myself doing this, so the effect was not significant and probably fuelled by the tequila shots. That said, Heike did feel better, and we were glad. She's actually a pretty nice girl, and as I've been discovering, quite the opposite to her sister.
That evening ended with me exclaiming loudly that it was absolutely impossible for me to listen to another minute of the Doors, so I grabbed the first CD I could find and stuffed it in the pub's stereo. Thankfully, it was the Police, and went over well with the remaining patrons of the bar.
At it was almost 3, there weren't too many people left. I had a bit of a chat with my friend Susi, then got a little shy, and buggered off home.
As mentioned already, I stayed away from beer for the rest of the weekend. I only returned to the pub on Saturday afternoon for several mineral waters and an absolutely horrible experience watching Liverpool maul Arsenal 4-1. I was OK with the Irish guy, Ray, that was there. He's a Liverpool fan, but not one to rub it in, especially after he knew good and well that Arsenal had already beaten Liverpool three times during the season. I couldn't say the same for Abu, who wandered in, sat down, and then wouldn't shut up for the entire second half. "Oh, this is a really good football game, really exciting!"
People like Tim, Chris, Steve, and Brandon know just exactly how annoying this can be, and it took a whole lot of effort not to make some comment like, "please insert your hand in your mouth before I help you." I'm not a psycho fan by any means; I just don't like to hear a lot of unnecessary commentary when it's perfectly clear that my team is playing like hell.
So, back to midweek: I was back in the pub Wednesday evening to watch the Chelsea-Valencia match, looking forward to a little chat with Susi, when Stefan walked in with Heike. I was a bit surprised, as he had already indicated that he'd see me after Easter break. Slightly more interesting was the fact that I was having a chat with Heike's recent beau. Fortunately, things didn't get out of control emotionally, at least because of them.
The biggest surprise was upon entering the bar that night, I was greeted by glum faces from Tomislav and Susi: the management had decided to sell the bar, and the following night would be the last night of the bar.
Immediately I was shocked, concerned, and frankly, a bit worried about what I would do for a local. Upon further questioning, I found that yes, Katja and Noel had decided to sell the bar and close up the night before Good Friday, all without informing any of the staff.
Certainly this was a very unprofessional thing to do (reminiscent of the final hour of Club Dada), but as I sat there, I considered the positives. First, neither Katja nor Noel seemed to have much experience running the bar, and though they'd had it for at least the last two years, I had been hearing more and more stories about how crap the place was becoming.
I had certainly not been impressed with various facets of my local: I don't like karaoke, and could also do without the bingo and quiz nights. The live music on weekends tended to be OK, but sometimes it was nice to just have Goran put in a CD. The food was always good, but the place seemed to suffer from a lack of attention. There were times when you weren't sure what you were standing in in the gent's toilet, and paper towels were always a rarity.
Zena, Jim, and Isis had all quit or been terminated since New Year's; I particularly missed seeing Zena and Isis, who were always quick to smile. I'd heard rumours that they'd been let go because of altercations with Katja or Noel. Since Tom and Goran were always around, I was comforted that at least my go to guys were there to keep the bar going. The addition of my friend Susi was nice, also. Unfortunately, she, too, had been given some stick by Noel and Katja.
Still, my place was on the patron side of the bar, which meant that I could quietly have my drinks, be polite, and from time to time light the bar on fire with English John; our way of amusing ourselves during lulls in the action on any given night.
As it turns out, Irish Ray is taking over the pub, along with the help of another Irishman named Ender. I've met both guys before, and I'm actually pretty encouraged by the turn of events.
Wednesday evening ended on a decent note: I basically closed the place down in celebration with Goran, Tomis, and Susi. Around 2.30, I grabbed the metal caps off of a few of the taps and headed home with the plan to return Thursday evening for the last hurrah.
Thursday morning started late, and I was fortunate that it was the last day of the work week. I found that I could grab a train an hour later than usual and still make it to work just before 9am, so long as I took a cab from Darmstadt hauptbahnhof to the office, which does require an extra 10 euros.
It was a pretty busy day at work, but I knew that I'd have Friday through Monday to just be quiet, what with my pub closing and the Easter holiday (and lack of plans). I got through the day, and left around 6.
My goal was to get to the cool bookstore in Frankfurt and purchase some language learning software; I've not been comfortable with my progress in German. Fortunately, Hugendubel had just what I was looking for, so I picked that up, then stopped off at the ReWe for the groceries I would need for the rest of the weekend; everything would be closed on Friday, Sunday, and Monday. I'd pick up additional staples if needed on Saturday.
So, I stepped into the pub for one last night with Goran and Tomislav around 8pm Thursday evening. As expected, a lot of regulars had gotten the news of the closure, so the place steadily filled up as the hour approached 10pm. Much the way the states experiences a great buzz on the night before Thanksgiving, the eve of Karfreitag (Good Friday) generates the same level of excitement, especially if the pub is closing.
I caught up with most of the regulars that I've met over the past few months. We talked about how encouraged we felt that Ray and Ender would be reopening in a few short weeks with a new approach to the local pub. At least, the place will have a new coat of paint, and I'm fairly certain the toilets will be OK.
Tomislav and Goran served drinks freely, as if they were soon to be unemployed. I'm sorry that the circumstances were as such, but both seemed rather pleased, actually. I'll continue to see the both of them out and about, so it's not as if this was a time for goodbyes.
For me, it was just a bit sad that my local is changing so dramatically, only four months after I've been here. However, several people were explaining how much better things were previously. They went on to relate many funny stories of other regulars and employees; the same kind of drama that you tend to experience at your local. It's not all that different than Kelly and Gabe leaving the Old Monk (or when David left, for that matter). Everyone has to move on at some point, and it's all about shaking hands and saying, "auf weidersehen!".
Sure, I stayed til close on Thursday, leaving Goran, Tom, and John to finish the very last bit.
I woke up around 2pm on Friday, and looked forward to peace and quiet for the next several days. Everyone I know was off to spend Easter with their family. Barbara was going to Slovakia for a few weeks, Stefan was already in Dresden, and Susi was in Hanau.
So, save for a trip to the gym on Saturday and a quick trip to the supermarket, I've been hanging out around the house, catching up on emails, trying to do taxes, and just resting. I've got some work I need to do which I will hope to bang out later today and Monday. Part of that will catch me up, and part will put me ahead.
I was fortunate to have a little Skype time with Los Pascal on Friday; nice webcam Pablo. Thanks for the chat, thanks for the advice, and tell Jen to be a bit more careful next time she walks through the room when the camera is on...
I hope to talk to my folks later today, and with a little luck, Lynne, Fran, and Daniel, also. That will make for a nice little Easter.
The significance of today doesn't escape me, but I needed to spend this year alone in my own thoughts. I'm probably the only guy listening to Alkaline Trio on Easter Sunday, but hey, there you have it.
keep the faith
bryan
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The Program hat begonnen!
Sure it's been a hectic week. I expected that. Amazingly enough, though, enough things clicked together at the last minute that we actually got the notebook repair program started.
Rocky? Sure.
Frantic? Absolutely.
Am I more calm? Nope.
But it's all relative, isn't it?
The day before St Patrick's Day, I arrived home to find a friendly letter from my local government office indicating that I wasn't actually a legal resident of Germany.
I did what I think anyone would have done, and basically stuffed the letter in my backpack and made a mental note to talk to my manager about it on the following Monday.
Well, we discovered that indeed, I needed to complete this step in the process, but it was merely a formality more so than anything.
Now, the residence visa process in Spain (if you need a refresher, go back to one of my stories from last year) is not particularly easy and fun, but it is rather straightforward: they send you a list of all the stuff you need, you put it all together, then you go down to the office and file all of the stuff with the civil servant, who takes your fingerprint, then tells you to come back in 6 weeks and pick up your ID.
Not in Germany.
I've been running around with a stamped piece of paper clipped to my passport that basically says I can live in this country. Despite the repeated questions I've asked to those responsible for organizing my paperwork, I was always told the same thing: it's all taken care of. However, I never submitted any photos of myself, or some of the things that were required in Spain. (I realize that the two countries are different, but the residence visa requirements tend to be very similar).
My biggest clue that something might not be quite right was the last time I came back into Germany from the UK; the passport control officer spent about 10 minutes with my passport (and attached sheet of paper), then let me through. (note - I asked more questions of my management about this and received the same answer as before: Alles klar)
So, after noting that letter I'd received mentioned that I had to have all of this done by April 1, I got a little jumpy. A colleague here completed a good bit of the documentation, and in one week, everything was compiled. I had my completed forms, proof of employment, housing, health insurance, and two passport photos (left over from when I did this in Spain).
Next step, find a day to go to the office in Frankfurt. I initially wanted to grab a friend to accompany me, but then I reconsidered. Perhaps it would be better to take my colleague who had initially been informed that I hadn't needed to complete this process in the first place. In the event additional discussions would be required, I needed language support.
Thus, Frau Frickel and I planned to go to Frankfurt Wednesday morning to get everything finalized once and for all.
At 8am, we were standing in line at the office, then were given a number and told to wait on the 3rd floor until my number was called.
After 20 minutes or so, we were instructed to go to room 302, so down the hall we walked to the office of the civil servant I was assigned to. Well, it turns out she's cute cute cute. That was an unexpected plus.
The negative came about 30 seconds later when she mentioned that I wasn't legally able to work in Germany, and it wasn't a good thing that I'd been working for, oh, the last 3 months.
Since the conversation was all in German, I missed most of it, but clearly understood the gist of what was being said, so I was immediately freaking out. Claudia, my colleague, was even more panicked. She immediately called the HR manager at Teleplan, and then we contacted the government office in Darmstadt, who had set everything up initially. Then, that clerk spoke with my cute clerk in the Frankfurt office, and ultimately, Darmstadt needed to fax something over to Frankfurt.
Brief as it was, I was still shaky for a few minutes. Then, of all things, the woman indicated that my passport photos weren't sufficient for my German visa, and I'd have to go have new pix taken somewhere. Fortunately, she was pretty nice and suggested that we get the photos at the kiosk next door while she waited for the fax.
Claudia and I headed to the little shop next door, I had my photo taken, we had a couple of ciggy, then returned to the office.
By 10.30, we were all set. All in all, not the worst experience, with the exception being the nervous moments initially.
So, for the second time this year, I'm saying, "At last, I have my German visa."
Back we went to Weiterstadt; I had units arriving for the first time, and my customer was going to visit later in the afternoon.
OK, we only received 5 units on Wednesday, but it was a start. I had the UK on the mobile walking us through everything to ensure that we were on the right track.
I've since spent lots of hours on the mobile with Duncan as we tweak the process, modify system access, etc. Somehow, we continue to joke and laugh as we push through.
My customers arrived and spent Wednesday and Thursday helping, supporting, and encouraging. It's a difficult customer to manage, but they've impressed me in the past couple of days as they spent time on the line with the technicians.
Thursday, we shipped our first three units, and today, we shipped 4 more.
We've officially made the program happen, and I'm pleased.
Sure, my manager already indicated he wanted to extend my contract for a year. He told me that Monday.
Sure, Tuesday evening my estate agent called to tell me that my landlord is planning to sell my apartment in August, so I'm going to have to find someplace else to live.
Sure, there are still silly questions coming from everyone, and my IT support guy was sick again today.
But, I've accomplished what I was hired to do, and I'm just getting started.
My buddy Goran plays a Simonout show tonight, and Arsenal are away to Liverpool on Saturday. The 40+ hours of work that I need to do before Monday will have to wait until later in the weekend.
keep the faith
bryan
Rocky? Sure.
Frantic? Absolutely.
Am I more calm? Nope.
But it's all relative, isn't it?
The day before St Patrick's Day, I arrived home to find a friendly letter from my local government office indicating that I wasn't actually a legal resident of Germany.
I did what I think anyone would have done, and basically stuffed the letter in my backpack and made a mental note to talk to my manager about it on the following Monday.
Well, we discovered that indeed, I needed to complete this step in the process, but it was merely a formality more so than anything.
Now, the residence visa process in Spain (if you need a refresher, go back to one of my stories from last year) is not particularly easy and fun, but it is rather straightforward: they send you a list of all the stuff you need, you put it all together, then you go down to the office and file all of the stuff with the civil servant, who takes your fingerprint, then tells you to come back in 6 weeks and pick up your ID.
Not in Germany.
I've been running around with a stamped piece of paper clipped to my passport that basically says I can live in this country. Despite the repeated questions I've asked to those responsible for organizing my paperwork, I was always told the same thing: it's all taken care of. However, I never submitted any photos of myself, or some of the things that were required in Spain. (I realize that the two countries are different, but the residence visa requirements tend to be very similar).
My biggest clue that something might not be quite right was the last time I came back into Germany from the UK; the passport control officer spent about 10 minutes with my passport (and attached sheet of paper), then let me through. (note - I asked more questions of my management about this and received the same answer as before: Alles klar)
So, after noting that letter I'd received mentioned that I had to have all of this done by April 1, I got a little jumpy. A colleague here completed a good bit of the documentation, and in one week, everything was compiled. I had my completed forms, proof of employment, housing, health insurance, and two passport photos (left over from when I did this in Spain).
Next step, find a day to go to the office in Frankfurt. I initially wanted to grab a friend to accompany me, but then I reconsidered. Perhaps it would be better to take my colleague who had initially been informed that I hadn't needed to complete this process in the first place. In the event additional discussions would be required, I needed language support.
Thus, Frau Frickel and I planned to go to Frankfurt Wednesday morning to get everything finalized once and for all.
At 8am, we were standing in line at the office, then were given a number and told to wait on the 3rd floor until my number was called.
After 20 minutes or so, we were instructed to go to room 302, so down the hall we walked to the office of the civil servant I was assigned to. Well, it turns out she's cute cute cute. That was an unexpected plus.
The negative came about 30 seconds later when she mentioned that I wasn't legally able to work in Germany, and it wasn't a good thing that I'd been working for, oh, the last 3 months.
Since the conversation was all in German, I missed most of it, but clearly understood the gist of what was being said, so I was immediately freaking out. Claudia, my colleague, was even more panicked. She immediately called the HR manager at Teleplan, and then we contacted the government office in Darmstadt, who had set everything up initially. Then, that clerk spoke with my cute clerk in the Frankfurt office, and ultimately, Darmstadt needed to fax something over to Frankfurt.
Brief as it was, I was still shaky for a few minutes. Then, of all things, the woman indicated that my passport photos weren't sufficient for my German visa, and I'd have to go have new pix taken somewhere. Fortunately, she was pretty nice and suggested that we get the photos at the kiosk next door while she waited for the fax.
Claudia and I headed to the little shop next door, I had my photo taken, we had a couple of ciggy, then returned to the office.
By 10.30, we were all set. All in all, not the worst experience, with the exception being the nervous moments initially.
So, for the second time this year, I'm saying, "At last, I have my German visa."
Back we went to Weiterstadt; I had units arriving for the first time, and my customer was going to visit later in the afternoon.
OK, we only received 5 units on Wednesday, but it was a start. I had the UK on the mobile walking us through everything to ensure that we were on the right track.
I've since spent lots of hours on the mobile with Duncan as we tweak the process, modify system access, etc. Somehow, we continue to joke and laugh as we push through.
My customers arrived and spent Wednesday and Thursday helping, supporting, and encouraging. It's a difficult customer to manage, but they've impressed me in the past couple of days as they spent time on the line with the technicians.
Thursday, we shipped our first three units, and today, we shipped 4 more.
We've officially made the program happen, and I'm pleased.
Sure, my manager already indicated he wanted to extend my contract for a year. He told me that Monday.
Sure, Tuesday evening my estate agent called to tell me that my landlord is planning to sell my apartment in August, so I'm going to have to find someplace else to live.
Sure, there are still silly questions coming from everyone, and my IT support guy was sick again today.
But, I've accomplished what I was hired to do, and I'm just getting started.
My buddy Goran plays a Simonout show tonight, and Arsenal are away to Liverpool on Saturday. The 40+ hours of work that I need to do before Monday will have to wait until later in the weekend.
keep the faith
bryan
Friday, March 23, 2007
Close To The Edge
It's not every day that I get an opportunity to use a St Elmo's Fire reference, so I'll make the most of it. Though I can't exactly remember how the song goes in the movie, I do recall the title: stressed out (close to the edge), which seems fitting at the present moment based on the fact that I'm about two clicks away from absolute insanity.
I believe the song was played during the latter portion of the film when all of the conflicts were coming to a head; again, perfectly fitting for my current situation.
Monday night was the last time I had some peaceful sleep, and I'm attributing that to a nice few hours I spent chatting to a friend of mine who I've been trying to get to know better. The smile on my face Tuesday morning ended quickly, and it's been an absolute bugger of a week ever since.
Everything that could possibly be going wrong for the start of this project has managed to go wrong...to the maximum level. True, I recognize the language and culture barrier, but basic business logic is still, er, basic business logic. What I've discovered this week is that the team I've put together to do this job doesn't have all the right skill set.
Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an expert in all areas of my job, but I'm certainly no slouch. Furthermore, I've got the good sense to stand up and raise my hand and say, "um, I don't think I understand what it is we're trying to do here," in the event I find myself in that situation.
My team supposedly consists of tenured employees that have some experience in their position. For example, the stock room team understands parts management and all the various processes involved with good and defective materials. How these people managed to do it without ANY idea at all about XCEL and other applications is beyond me. I'm not talking about the clerk; I'm talking about the warehouse manager. And should they really need to ask me how to create new bar code labels for their shelves?
Repair logistics becomes only as complicated as you want to make it, and as a rule, my company has tended to make it as complicated as they can. Fortunately, I've been around long enough to know that, so I've always found ways to simplify the processes for the team so that they really only have to do the job that they supposedly know how to do in the first place. Thus, I can get the results I'm looking for.
That's why I'm so out of sorts. I've got people asking me basic questions about their jobs that lead me to believe that perhaps they shouldn't be in their roles. Not good, Bob. Not good.
I always look for potential in situations and people. In fact, my pleasant Monday evening was spent with someone who really has potential to make a difference in this world. That's special to me, and I'm attracted to people like that. I like to spend time with them and have the opportunity to not only learn a thing or two, but also share a bit, too.
In repair operations, I've had relatively good success judging people that were new to the industry, but demonstrated all the right soft skills that would lead to their success. Decision making ability, logic, and confidence are three things that you can easily identify in somebody if you ask the right questions.
I've been asking the right questions, but am getting too many blank stares, confusing answers, and lack of common sense responses. For example, if I were to tell you that you would receive a cash bonus in the event the project was profitable by the end of the month, and for whatever reason, the project was NOT profitable by the end of the month, should you expect a bonus?
That's not a trick question.
I'll jump off the ranting, because I really just needed to give myself a reality check and get this off my chest. My colleague in the UK and I have been joking about our frustrations (if we weren't joking, we'd be crying); if between the two of us we can make this a successful program across two sites, we've done great things. It's not about the personal fame and recognition; I'm talking about keeping 300 some odd employees employed. I'm talking about returning a company to profitability. I'm talking about providing a good service to a really demanding customer.
Easy? Nope. That's why I'm doing it.
But it would be a lot more fun if my team here were running their butts off in effort to make this success, too.
We go live on Monday, March 26th. The electric screwdrivers haven't arrived yet, the freight carrier just now confirmed that they're sort of ready, the first few technicians don't have much experience with the shop floor control system, I have NO materials planner, we've got almost 700 different types of restoration CDs to manage, and to top it all off, I think the milk I put in my coffee earlier this morning was a bit off.
wish me luck, and keep the faith.
cheers
bryan
Soundtrack:
Stressed Out (Close to the Edge) - Airplay (ie..David Foster)
The Clash - Death or Glory
Bruce Springsteen -Born to Run
Front 242 - Never Stop!
I believe the song was played during the latter portion of the film when all of the conflicts were coming to a head; again, perfectly fitting for my current situation.
Monday night was the last time I had some peaceful sleep, and I'm attributing that to a nice few hours I spent chatting to a friend of mine who I've been trying to get to know better. The smile on my face Tuesday morning ended quickly, and it's been an absolute bugger of a week ever since.
Everything that could possibly be going wrong for the start of this project has managed to go wrong...to the maximum level. True, I recognize the language and culture barrier, but basic business logic is still, er, basic business logic. What I've discovered this week is that the team I've put together to do this job doesn't have all the right skill set.
Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an expert in all areas of my job, but I'm certainly no slouch. Furthermore, I've got the good sense to stand up and raise my hand and say, "um, I don't think I understand what it is we're trying to do here," in the event I find myself in that situation.
My team supposedly consists of tenured employees that have some experience in their position. For example, the stock room team understands parts management and all the various processes involved with good and defective materials. How these people managed to do it without ANY idea at all about XCEL and other applications is beyond me. I'm not talking about the clerk; I'm talking about the warehouse manager. And should they really need to ask me how to create new bar code labels for their shelves?
Repair logistics becomes only as complicated as you want to make it, and as a rule, my company has tended to make it as complicated as they can. Fortunately, I've been around long enough to know that, so I've always found ways to simplify the processes for the team so that they really only have to do the job that they supposedly know how to do in the first place. Thus, I can get the results I'm looking for.
That's why I'm so out of sorts. I've got people asking me basic questions about their jobs that lead me to believe that perhaps they shouldn't be in their roles. Not good, Bob. Not good.
I always look for potential in situations and people. In fact, my pleasant Monday evening was spent with someone who really has potential to make a difference in this world. That's special to me, and I'm attracted to people like that. I like to spend time with them and have the opportunity to not only learn a thing or two, but also share a bit, too.
In repair operations, I've had relatively good success judging people that were new to the industry, but demonstrated all the right soft skills that would lead to their success. Decision making ability, logic, and confidence are three things that you can easily identify in somebody if you ask the right questions.
I've been asking the right questions, but am getting too many blank stares, confusing answers, and lack of common sense responses. For example, if I were to tell you that you would receive a cash bonus in the event the project was profitable by the end of the month, and for whatever reason, the project was NOT profitable by the end of the month, should you expect a bonus?
That's not a trick question.
I'll jump off the ranting, because I really just needed to give myself a reality check and get this off my chest. My colleague in the UK and I have been joking about our frustrations (if we weren't joking, we'd be crying); if between the two of us we can make this a successful program across two sites, we've done great things. It's not about the personal fame and recognition; I'm talking about keeping 300 some odd employees employed. I'm talking about returning a company to profitability. I'm talking about providing a good service to a really demanding customer.
Easy? Nope. That's why I'm doing it.
But it would be a lot more fun if my team here were running their butts off in effort to make this success, too.
We go live on Monday, March 26th. The electric screwdrivers haven't arrived yet, the freight carrier just now confirmed that they're sort of ready, the first few technicians don't have much experience with the shop floor control system, I have NO materials planner, we've got almost 700 different types of restoration CDs to manage, and to top it all off, I think the milk I put in my coffee earlier this morning was a bit off.
wish me luck, and keep the faith.
cheers
bryan
Soundtrack:
Stressed Out (Close to the Edge) - Airplay (ie..David Foster)
The Clash - Death or Glory
Bruce Springsteen -Born to Run
Front 242 - Never Stop!
Monday, March 19, 2007
Cool Things That Make Me Smile
People frequently ask me how I like Germany, and I always respond with positive remarks, and they've almost always been true. I say "almost always" because from time to time one has to recognize the audience. You'll see from the list just what I mean. I've been working on this list for a few months, but have managed to forget to include it in previous posts. In no particular order, here's what I like about being in Frankfurt:
1) Everyone is interested in where you're from, and apart from a little obligatory razzing on the American (a Texan no less), almost everyone moves on to other conversation topics instead of getting hung up on the nationality without any further comment.
2) Women of all ages tend to wear their hair in pony tails. If this is your thing, you're in trouble. It is my thing, and I'm in trouble.
3) Boots are also quite popular with the female population. It adds an element of style that makes for a pretty enjoyable scene.
4) Very small kids take the public transportation to (and presumably from) school each morning. My bus stop is in a small neighborhood, and as I get off, there are about 5 kids that seem to be between the ages of 4 and 7 that all get on the bus, usually looking somewhat top heavy with the size of their back packs. I'm quite touched that the bus driver and most of the passengers take care to ensure the safety of the children.
5) I frequently see blind people getting assistance on and off the train platforms, as well as to and from the U-Bahn lines. Frankfurt Main Hauptbahnhof is extremely hectic during the AM and PM commute, yet no matter how late someone might be, they will always take the time to help someone in need get safely to where they need to go.
6) I've developed a bit of a rapport with the security guards at my repair facility. I usually try to say a few things in German to them throughout the day, and while they were a bit frosty a couple of months ago, they now tend to be a bit more cheery, and more than once one of the guys has actually responded "Good Morning," after I wished him a "Guten Morgen."
7) I have not met a German yet who hasn't apologized to me for the level of their English. This, while touching, is a rather humbling experience for me. I frequently mention that I'm learning the language (and to some extent I am) when I speak with someone auf Deutsch, but try not to apologize.
8) In the spirit of behaving like the people in my neighborhood, I tend to look both ways before jaywalking across the street, and at least five times now I've almost been hit by a bicyclist who has to ring their little bell and swerve out of the way as I inadvertently walk in front of them. "I've got a motorcycle jacket but I'm walking all the time..." sang Joe Strummer. (I wonder if he ever had my problem)
9) Much the way we endured junior high and high school dances (ok, mostly junior high) where the boys stood on one side of the room in a group, listening and singing loudly to songs by the Scorpions, Journey, and various other seemingly rock and roll songs (boy did that comment sound like I grew up in a suburb that had very little racial diversity...) while the girls stood in their own groups on the other side of the gymnasium or whatever, singing and dancing to the more seemingly dancy type songs (ie...Cyndi Lauper, Men Without Hats, etc).
That's not far off from the scene in some of the bars around Frankfurt, only there's a bit more heein and sheein, and everyone sings the songs together. I must admit I've been right in the thick of that once or twice, which is why I've started taking a few CDs with me round to the pub at night so at least I can sing what I want.
10) I've now had my back waxed in three different major cities of the world. Dallas was the most expensive, Valencia was the most friendly, and the first Frankfurt experience is still open for discussion. It wasn't horrible, it wasn't great, and it wasn't too expensive. It was all in German, though there's not a great deal to talk about when you're on the table and some girl is ripping your cats off. Extra points for the fact that the salon is right next door to my flat.
So that's the short list so far. As time passes, I'm sure I'll will have more exposure to plenty of other things.
The weekend was a basic success, as the goal was simply to imbibe enough beers to impress Shane MacGowan. I started Friday evening, carried over til the wee hours on Saturday, basically slept all day, and then had a relatively early night on Saturday: I started the celebrations around 8ish, and finished around 1am.
Sunday was rather productive for me, surprisingly enough. A few hours banging out some songs on the guitar, followed by a good visit to the gym, followed by a couple of salads and a bit more guitar. Later, I wandered over to the pub to catch the Arsenal match, which went very poorly on the match front. However, it was the first opportunity that Sonja and Barbara got to sit on either side of me, which made for a slightly interesting experience. Hell, I could almost make it number 11 on my list...
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
The Church - Under the Milky Way
Oasis - Wonderwall
Therapy - Screamager
The Pogues - If I Should Fall From Grace With God
Sesame Street - People In Your Neighborhood
1) Everyone is interested in where you're from, and apart from a little obligatory razzing on the American (a Texan no less), almost everyone moves on to other conversation topics instead of getting hung up on the nationality without any further comment.
2) Women of all ages tend to wear their hair in pony tails. If this is your thing, you're in trouble. It is my thing, and I'm in trouble.
3) Boots are also quite popular with the female population. It adds an element of style that makes for a pretty enjoyable scene.
4) Very small kids take the public transportation to (and presumably from) school each morning. My bus stop is in a small neighborhood, and as I get off, there are about 5 kids that seem to be between the ages of 4 and 7 that all get on the bus, usually looking somewhat top heavy with the size of their back packs. I'm quite touched that the bus driver and most of the passengers take care to ensure the safety of the children.
5) I frequently see blind people getting assistance on and off the train platforms, as well as to and from the U-Bahn lines. Frankfurt Main Hauptbahnhof is extremely hectic during the AM and PM commute, yet no matter how late someone might be, they will always take the time to help someone in need get safely to where they need to go.
6) I've developed a bit of a rapport with the security guards at my repair facility. I usually try to say a few things in German to them throughout the day, and while they were a bit frosty a couple of months ago, they now tend to be a bit more cheery, and more than once one of the guys has actually responded "Good Morning," after I wished him a "Guten Morgen."
7) I have not met a German yet who hasn't apologized to me for the level of their English. This, while touching, is a rather humbling experience for me. I frequently mention that I'm learning the language (and to some extent I am) when I speak with someone auf Deutsch, but try not to apologize.
8) In the spirit of behaving like the people in my neighborhood, I tend to look both ways before jaywalking across the street, and at least five times now I've almost been hit by a bicyclist who has to ring their little bell and swerve out of the way as I inadvertently walk in front of them. "I've got a motorcycle jacket but I'm walking all the time..." sang Joe Strummer. (I wonder if he ever had my problem)
9) Much the way we endured junior high and high school dances (ok, mostly junior high) where the boys stood on one side of the room in a group, listening and singing loudly to songs by the Scorpions, Journey, and various other seemingly rock and roll songs (boy did that comment sound like I grew up in a suburb that had very little racial diversity...) while the girls stood in their own groups on the other side of the gymnasium or whatever, singing and dancing to the more seemingly dancy type songs (ie...Cyndi Lauper, Men Without Hats, etc).
That's not far off from the scene in some of the bars around Frankfurt, only there's a bit more heein and sheein, and everyone sings the songs together. I must admit I've been right in the thick of that once or twice, which is why I've started taking a few CDs with me round to the pub at night so at least I can sing what I want.
10) I've now had my back waxed in three different major cities of the world. Dallas was the most expensive, Valencia was the most friendly, and the first Frankfurt experience is still open for discussion. It wasn't horrible, it wasn't great, and it wasn't too expensive. It was all in German, though there's not a great deal to talk about when you're on the table and some girl is ripping your cats off. Extra points for the fact that the salon is right next door to my flat.
So that's the short list so far. As time passes, I'm sure I'll will have more exposure to plenty of other things.
The weekend was a basic success, as the goal was simply to imbibe enough beers to impress Shane MacGowan. I started Friday evening, carried over til the wee hours on Saturday, basically slept all day, and then had a relatively early night on Saturday: I started the celebrations around 8ish, and finished around 1am.
Sunday was rather productive for me, surprisingly enough. A few hours banging out some songs on the guitar, followed by a good visit to the gym, followed by a couple of salads and a bit more guitar. Later, I wandered over to the pub to catch the Arsenal match, which went very poorly on the match front. However, it was the first opportunity that Sonja and Barbara got to sit on either side of me, which made for a slightly interesting experience. Hell, I could almost make it number 11 on my list...
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
The Church - Under the Milky Way
Oasis - Wonderwall
Therapy - Screamager
The Pogues - If I Should Fall From Grace With God
Sesame Street - People In Your Neighborhood
Friday, March 16, 2007
Weebles Might be Wobbling But Bryan Isn't Falling Down
Last Friday, I typed up a little piece, then skipped out for the weekend, which started in fantastic style as I hit the pub for another Friday night of action (having laughs with Stefan, chatting up Susi, having one too many chupitos, etc), and left somewhere around 4am.
Because the week had ended on such a positive, I felt pretty chipper on Saturday morning, and despite the late hour I'd been out the night before, by 9.30am was enjoying a nice morning having a coffee and listening to a Chick Corea/Bobby McFerrin Mozart Sessions CD, which happens to be bloody brilliant. I'm not a particular fan of either of those two, but this little disc put me in a nice mood.
That mood continued through the rest of the weekend, which did not include any further trips to the local; one has to remain sensible about these things, eh?
Monday morning, I had to meet my local chimney sweep, who doesn't actually come to sweep the chimney (I don't have one), but instead checks the emissions from the fixtures in my apartment. I wish I could explain this better, but basically from 7.30 to 7.40am I let some guy dressed in black into my place, he stood next to the hot water heater for the entire 10 minutes, gave me an "Alles klar," then left, allowing me to head off to work.
Things didn't go so wonderfully at work, as two key members of my team were off sick. This was to be a week of heavy preparation for the project which starts the 26th of March. My technicians were in the UK for some intensive training. Meanwhile, I was hoping to get the materials ordered, the warehouse set up, the systems installed, and also host the customer for a brief inspection of the facility later in the week.
I had one of those really busy days where nothing really got done, which obviously creates an amount of frustration. Thus, I found myself back in the pub Monday evening, where I got to excitedly, perhaps dynamically, tell my buddy John how much I enjoyed the Mozart sessions disc he'd made for me. During the conversation, the barmaid Nadie took my Rock Again Bush compilation and popped it in the pub's CD player. John and I proceeded to listen to both discs over the next couple of hours, and though it was a pretty quiet night, I ended staying rather late chatting with Nadie.
Tuesday, I spent most of the day with a colleague from the UK, hammering out the financial process for the program. I was expecting the return of my materials manager and my IT guy, but both were apparently still sick and unable to come to work. I appreciate health and wellness, but a problem we tend to have in this repair facility is a 15% sickness rate. Those are almost bubonic plague numbers, and it makes it incredibly frustrating to accomplish anything, let alone a notebook computer repair program. The significance of these two guys was tremendous; we had to have our initial stocking order placed to allow for delivery and put away. The IT guy had to set up all the systems and hardware before my English co-manager showed up on Wednesday to help set up the shop floor control system.
By 6pm Tuesday evening, I had no idea if we had parts on order, systems in house or anything. I was so mentally exhausted (and physically, for that matter), that I left the office, told myself I'd go clear my head and hope like hell things were better on Wednesday morning. My customer was coming on Thursday, so if Wednesday didn't go well, I'd be absolutely fucked for their visit.
After briefly contemplating what it would feel like to jump in front of the U-Bahn, I wisely elected to actually board the train, and got myself back to Bornheim. I stopped off in the pub to have a little dinner, and ended up watching part of a cricket match. I know almost nothing about cricket, but at least it took my mind off all the pressing concerns I had.
Wednesday morning came quickly, but I felt somewhat better. My mood improved when I saw the IT guy out on the line installing systems, swearing the whole time. Things improved again when the materials manager showed up, and we got the initial stocking order placed with the vendor. In a period of two hours, I had parts on order, packaging headed my way, and a set up to show my customer.
Duncan showed up around 1pm. He's the program manager for the same account, but out of the UK. He also developed the control system that we use for the operation. With his arrival, I finally felt like we were going to be able to make this happen. Perhaps it's not going quite the way I'd like it to, but that's pretty much the story of my life anyway.
We grabbed a couple of beers together at his hotel after work, where we met our customers, who had just arrived from Brussels. The engineer is Spanish, and my counterpart (who I've already mentioned has a techno band and loads of earrings) is Flemmish. We had another quick beer together, then I hooked it back to Frankfurt; it was karaoke night at my pub.
(Pause while you all have time to ask yourselves, "did Bryan just write it's karaoke night?")
Nah. Wednesday night is indeed karaoke night, and it's a complete joke. But, it's my local. My kebap guy got up and absolutely butchered a Robbie Williams song. Another man did a reasonable job with "My Way," but it's just all part of it, really. I joked with Tom the barman about how ridiculous it really was, and we agreed that soon we'd have to get together and hammer out a couple of tunes on the guitar. Or, perhaps we'd lock the MC into the men's toilet and prevent the event from happening.
It probably wasn't the best idea to have a couple of whiskeys on top of the pints, but "oops, oh well." I said to myself as I woke up an hour late Thursday morning. I barely made my train, and got into the office 15 minutes before my customers showed up. I was nervous, but knew that if they were unhappy, they'd certainly let me know straight away, the engineer particularly.
"We're impressed," was the statement both of them made 20 minutes later after we'd walked through the repair area. True, it was only floor space, some esd mat covered benches, and an empty stock room, but the customer was pleased. Result. Relief.
The engineer was somewhat bored for the next 6 hours, but Manuella and I had loads to discuss. SOW, invoicing process, materials returns, call centers, etc. Most of this is hanging together by a thread, so I've got a long long way to go, but at least it's going in the right direction. I'm getting it done, even if it's taking just about everything I've got to make it so.
I was pretty psyched up by mid afternoon, only to get a bit of bad news minutes after the customer left to drive back home. Manuella co-manages the program with a colleague who was still in Belgium. He informed me of a process change that had financial consequences, tons of risk, and gave me the impression that he was going to have to delay the start of the program once again.
My nicotine and caffeine intake at the present moment is just shy of "see you in the hospital in a few days," and with the jolting information I'd received, I was suddenly thinking that I'd be in the emergency room within hours. But, I consulted with my colleague, and the account exec (who also happened to be in Weiterstadt) and with some quick thinking, we've got some solutions, and furthermore, are still set to go live on March 26th for notebook repair in this facility.
Today has been a flash of frantic calls, quick decisions, and about 40 cups of coffee. In fact, everything that you've just read took me about 10 minutes to type up.
Once again, it's Friday afternoon, and the weekend beckons. For the second year in a row, I will miss the Greenville Ave celebrations of St Patrick's in Dallas, and for the second year in a row, that's going to be ok. I'll miss the cutting up, the burgers, the ping pong tourney (a new tradition in the making) and the kilt, but my own local has plenty of debauchery planned, and I'm certainly counting myself in.
Enjoy your own celebrations, whether it be Fallas or St Pat's.
Keep the faith
bryan
sountrack
The Alarm - Declaration
Nitzer Ebb - Join in the Chant
Carter USM - Lean On Me I Won't Fall Over
Cameo - Word Up
Because the week had ended on such a positive, I felt pretty chipper on Saturday morning, and despite the late hour I'd been out the night before, by 9.30am was enjoying a nice morning having a coffee and listening to a Chick Corea/Bobby McFerrin Mozart Sessions CD, which happens to be bloody brilliant. I'm not a particular fan of either of those two, but this little disc put me in a nice mood.
That mood continued through the rest of the weekend, which did not include any further trips to the local; one has to remain sensible about these things, eh?
Monday morning, I had to meet my local chimney sweep, who doesn't actually come to sweep the chimney (I don't have one), but instead checks the emissions from the fixtures in my apartment. I wish I could explain this better, but basically from 7.30 to 7.40am I let some guy dressed in black into my place, he stood next to the hot water heater for the entire 10 minutes, gave me an "Alles klar," then left, allowing me to head off to work.
Things didn't go so wonderfully at work, as two key members of my team were off sick. This was to be a week of heavy preparation for the project which starts the 26th of March. My technicians were in the UK for some intensive training. Meanwhile, I was hoping to get the materials ordered, the warehouse set up, the systems installed, and also host the customer for a brief inspection of the facility later in the week.
I had one of those really busy days where nothing really got done, which obviously creates an amount of frustration. Thus, I found myself back in the pub Monday evening, where I got to excitedly, perhaps dynamically, tell my buddy John how much I enjoyed the Mozart sessions disc he'd made for me. During the conversation, the barmaid Nadie took my Rock Again Bush compilation and popped it in the pub's CD player. John and I proceeded to listen to both discs over the next couple of hours, and though it was a pretty quiet night, I ended staying rather late chatting with Nadie.
Tuesday, I spent most of the day with a colleague from the UK, hammering out the financial process for the program. I was expecting the return of my materials manager and my IT guy, but both were apparently still sick and unable to come to work. I appreciate health and wellness, but a problem we tend to have in this repair facility is a 15% sickness rate. Those are almost bubonic plague numbers, and it makes it incredibly frustrating to accomplish anything, let alone a notebook computer repair program. The significance of these two guys was tremendous; we had to have our initial stocking order placed to allow for delivery and put away. The IT guy had to set up all the systems and hardware before my English co-manager showed up on Wednesday to help set up the shop floor control system.
By 6pm Tuesday evening, I had no idea if we had parts on order, systems in house or anything. I was so mentally exhausted (and physically, for that matter), that I left the office, told myself I'd go clear my head and hope like hell things were better on Wednesday morning. My customer was coming on Thursday, so if Wednesday didn't go well, I'd be absolutely fucked for their visit.
After briefly contemplating what it would feel like to jump in front of the U-Bahn, I wisely elected to actually board the train, and got myself back to Bornheim. I stopped off in the pub to have a little dinner, and ended up watching part of a cricket match. I know almost nothing about cricket, but at least it took my mind off all the pressing concerns I had.
Wednesday morning came quickly, but I felt somewhat better. My mood improved when I saw the IT guy out on the line installing systems, swearing the whole time. Things improved again when the materials manager showed up, and we got the initial stocking order placed with the vendor. In a period of two hours, I had parts on order, packaging headed my way, and a set up to show my customer.
Duncan showed up around 1pm. He's the program manager for the same account, but out of the UK. He also developed the control system that we use for the operation. With his arrival, I finally felt like we were going to be able to make this happen. Perhaps it's not going quite the way I'd like it to, but that's pretty much the story of my life anyway.
We grabbed a couple of beers together at his hotel after work, where we met our customers, who had just arrived from Brussels. The engineer is Spanish, and my counterpart (who I've already mentioned has a techno band and loads of earrings) is Flemmish. We had another quick beer together, then I hooked it back to Frankfurt; it was karaoke night at my pub.
(Pause while you all have time to ask yourselves, "did Bryan just write it's karaoke night?")
Nah. Wednesday night is indeed karaoke night, and it's a complete joke. But, it's my local. My kebap guy got up and absolutely butchered a Robbie Williams song. Another man did a reasonable job with "My Way," but it's just all part of it, really. I joked with Tom the barman about how ridiculous it really was, and we agreed that soon we'd have to get together and hammer out a couple of tunes on the guitar. Or, perhaps we'd lock the MC into the men's toilet and prevent the event from happening.
It probably wasn't the best idea to have a couple of whiskeys on top of the pints, but "oops, oh well." I said to myself as I woke up an hour late Thursday morning. I barely made my train, and got into the office 15 minutes before my customers showed up. I was nervous, but knew that if they were unhappy, they'd certainly let me know straight away, the engineer particularly.
"We're impressed," was the statement both of them made 20 minutes later after we'd walked through the repair area. True, it was only floor space, some esd mat covered benches, and an empty stock room, but the customer was pleased. Result. Relief.
The engineer was somewhat bored for the next 6 hours, but Manuella and I had loads to discuss. SOW, invoicing process, materials returns, call centers, etc. Most of this is hanging together by a thread, so I've got a long long way to go, but at least it's going in the right direction. I'm getting it done, even if it's taking just about everything I've got to make it so.
I was pretty psyched up by mid afternoon, only to get a bit of bad news minutes after the customer left to drive back home. Manuella co-manages the program with a colleague who was still in Belgium. He informed me of a process change that had financial consequences, tons of risk, and gave me the impression that he was going to have to delay the start of the program once again.
My nicotine and caffeine intake at the present moment is just shy of "see you in the hospital in a few days," and with the jolting information I'd received, I was suddenly thinking that I'd be in the emergency room within hours. But, I consulted with my colleague, and the account exec (who also happened to be in Weiterstadt) and with some quick thinking, we've got some solutions, and furthermore, are still set to go live on March 26th for notebook repair in this facility.
Today has been a flash of frantic calls, quick decisions, and about 40 cups of coffee. In fact, everything that you've just read took me about 10 minutes to type up.
Once again, it's Friday afternoon, and the weekend beckons. For the second year in a row, I will miss the Greenville Ave celebrations of St Patrick's in Dallas, and for the second year in a row, that's going to be ok. I'll miss the cutting up, the burgers, the ping pong tourney (a new tradition in the making) and the kilt, but my own local has plenty of debauchery planned, and I'm certainly counting myself in.
Enjoy your own celebrations, whether it be Fallas or St Pat's.
Keep the faith
bryan
sountrack
The Alarm - Declaration
Nitzer Ebb - Join in the Chant
Carter USM - Lean On Me I Won't Fall Over
Cameo - Word Up
Thursday, March 08, 2007
I've Been Trapped Under the Program Management Rock and Couldn't Get Up!
Wow, it's only been two weeks since my last post, but it seems like several months. I've received more than a few emails about my last post; most of them expressed concern and support for my personal situation.
Initially, I didn't reflect too much about that post, but during a conversation with my sister last week, where she asked for the real story (along with updates) about the "brush off" event, I realized that my post might have come across as a little depressive and wallowy.
Let me take a moment to clarify things. I was more intrigued by the incident than anything else. When you meet a new friend, you go through the frequent hanging out stage, and I was just surprised that she did an abrupt back pedal; things had never progressed past the "heyhowyadoinletshavesomepintsandmaybeseearockshowtogetheroh
yourelockedoutofyourapartmentwellyoudbetterstayatmyplacetonight
sinceIhaveasparebed" stage. In short, this isn't all that different than the times I hung out in Dallas, had too much to drink, and had to stay at someones apartment. Of course, my situation was slightly unusual cos' if I got too drunk at McKee's, I was, er, already home. And more than once I locked myself out of my flat, too...
Yes, there was an awkward couple of days where Sonja felt uncomfortable, feeling that she'd hurt me, where in fact, she was misunderstanding my distorted facial expressions: I was being cautious, but also living a life with a mind filled to the brim with thoughts about the project I'm doing, learning a new language, and Arsenal football. I've since had a look in the mirror and better understand why she was thinking what she was.
Fortunately, the awkwardness from two weeks ago passed within a couple of days. By the end of the week, the comfort level was there and there you have it. In fact, she sat through several Arsenal matches with me: the FA Cup, the Carling Cup final, and the FA Cup replay. I'm not holding anything against her even though Arsenal failed to win any of those games.
This past week, she's become a little more uncomfortable again. She's been hanging out a lot with some new guy, and it seems that she gets a little nervous when I come into the pub and see them. I'm not completely sure why, but I'm not concerned. I've got too many other things going on. Besides, I have Heike, Susi, Barbara, and Helen right where they want me...
Now, on to more exciting things.
The job has blown wide open. The lack of posts in the past two weeks comes down to the amount of time I've had to spend fighting the political battles, overcoming production obstacles, dealing with a demanding customer, and "babysitting." I knew when I returned to this company that I'd be going right back into the same old crap that made me leave the job in the first place. All that aside, though, it's totally the right element for me. Swashbuckling program management, you know. Be. Like. No.Other.
I'll spare further boring professional details, for now. On to the updates on things like domestic appliances and DSL.
Laundry was a problem for me back in January. With a little patience and some extra spin cycles, I finally mastered the finer points of my washing machine. I'm used to drying my clothes on a rack that I set up in my bathroom. Sure, I'd love to dry my clothes out on a clothesline off my balcony, but no one else does it, so I can't either. Sometimes being the first on your block isn't the right thing to do, especially in Germany. I'd rather pick those battles, anyway.
A couple of Saturdays ago, I decided that I would run the dishwasher, since I'd accumulated a sink load of dirty plates and silverware and didn't feel like hand washing them. So, I loaded the machine (der Geschirrspüler, and yep, that word didn't just roll off my tongue the first 50 times I tried to say it), made a cup of coffee, then went into the living room to watch a bit of TV.
30 minutes later, I entered the kitchen to find a floor covered in soapsuds. Just so you'll have the comfort of knowing that I'm still on the positive mindset, I immediately thought of how clean my floor was going to be after I mopped up. After all, I needed to clean the kitchen that day anyway.
True, I realized my mistake: too much soap in an undersized machine, one that has only icons around the dial. I had merely pressed buttons and hoped for the best. What I got was hot soapy plates, a machine that hadn't drained, and a floor resembling a bubble bath.
I eventually sorted things out, and had to clean the dishes by hand anyway. I don't expect to use that machine again in future.
Last Friday afternoon, I took the afternoon off to sit at home and wait for the phone technician. Since mid-January, I've "had" DSL, only my box sat on permanent blinking green, which means that I don't have a DSL signal. The process of getting support from the help desk proved a bit tedious, because I wasn't able to call them up personally and explain the situation. Thus, my estate agent was doing the go between. Ultimately, after about three line checks with a response, "Alles klar," each time, I pointed out that, "Nein, Alles is NICHT klar."
From there, I got an appointment for last Friday afternoon between the hours of 2 and 8 for a guy to come out to the house and see what was up.
I made it to my apartment about 3, hoping that the telecom guy wouldn't be punctual. Sure enough, no one had tried to reach me, so I opened the mail, folded some clothes, and then answered the phone at 3.30 to someone who said, "Jetzt gehts." Now it works.
I looked down to see a constant green on my box, and smiled.
5 minutes later I was on line and checking up on the latest sports scores and weather reports. (feel free to interpret this as surfing porn...I don't care)
So, with a little patience, you, too, can obtain DSL service in Frankfurt.
I celebrated Friday evening by heading to my local, where I proceeded to get well and truly hammered with Stefan and Sonja. This actually led to me leaving the bar prematurely (not before one too many Baby Guinness, and please, don't even ask) and staggering home for a little nighty huuff! night.
Saturday began with a bit of toast and coffee and some internet. Ahh. Finally an opportunity to read the match previews before kickoff. From there, a trip to the gym, a haircut, and a bit of shopping. I skipped any opportunity for additional beers and made it a very early night, made slightly more comfortable by an Arsenal victory against Reading.
Sunday was pretty much like Saturday, except there was no haircut and no shopping. I did manage a trip to the pub later in the afternoon, but that was driven mainly by the opportunity to pick up a guitar. One of the barmen, Tom, has kindly loaned me his acoustic 6 string for a couple of weeks as I shop around. It's pretty nice, feels great, and sounds quite bright in my apartment. Unfortunately, my fingers have not been able to do all of things that my mind tells them to, so the first time I played sounded a bit like it sounds when you accidentally step on a cat. What a difference a year's layoff can make.
Back to the work thing. I'm impressed with the sense of humor of my colleagues in England. We have a very challenging program, with a very demanding customer. We've had more than our share of hiccups and obstacles, yet we keep pounding through, and we keep laughing. My German colleagues are finally getting the true picture of what a basket case truly looks like, but they're also beginning to realize and respect just what I bring to the team. Personally, I'm a little tired of having to offer up my first born child in order to get a CAPEX approved with the CFO, and this past Monday evening, I had to put my job on the line: if we're not profitable on this program, I'm out of the job.
After a statement like that, it's no surprise that I headed straight to the pub for a little relaxation. I found English John there and we had an excellent chat about music. John is closer to 50, and has slightly different music tastes from me, but he impressively knows about quite a few bands that I'm currently grooving to. I realized that I was carrying a nice tasty compilation that Trina had sent me a long time ago, so I asked Tom (who has quite the excellent taste in music himself; a Serbian Smiths fan - who'd have guessed?) to pop it in the CD player. Suddenly, the pub went from the Happy Mondays to a rousing Anti-Flag song. There was an immediate buzz among the other patrons, and John and I sat and listened for close to an hour, chatting merrily about the various songs from the Dropkick Murphys, Bouncing Souls, and Street Dogs. (for Jose Miguel - Tu nececitas comprar el disco de Street Dogs. El lider estaba en Dropkick Murphys hace diez años. Es fenomenal!)
Eventually, Goran (other Serbian barman) arrived with some friends, and I had to join him in a whiskey to celebrate his third anniversary in Germany. I certainly didn't need the shot, but you might argue that I probably didn't need the four Guinness I'd already had, either. After the drink and the greetings, I headed for home for some needed sleep. The week was going to be extra busy.
My problem with Champs League is that I cannot stay away from the matches. That pretty much means that I've got to go to the pub since I've no satellite TV. Two nights a week, just about every two weeks, for most of the football season. Springtime is pretty busy in European football, but during the week, it makes for a bit of a challenge; quite a few late nights in a row.
Liverpool - Barca was a good match. I wanted Liverpool to go through mostly so that Arsenal, assuming they advanced to the next round, wouldn't have to play Barcelona. I have a fondness for Liverpool in their traditions, both old and new. Besides, Rafa Benitez coached Valencia before moving to the UK. Congrats to Sean and Muzzy; maybe the final will be AC Milan and Liverpool one more time.
The other matches were predictable: Chelsea and Roma both got through. Valencia held on for a goalless draw which enabled them to advance (from the away goals rule; they tied 2-2 against Inter in the first leg). Right on.
I went right home after the match to try and get a bit more than 5 hours a sleep, which has been the steady average over the past months. Wednesday was the day for Arsenal's match, and they were faced with a sizable challenge.
The Wednesday workday was a blur of meetings, conference calls, and panic. I left work an hour later than I wanted, but that was probably a good thing. Champs League matches start around 8.45pm. Like I said, it can make for a late night.
My local really only has one TV that is reliable, so I had already elected to watch the match in another pub. A few years ago, there were several MacGowan's pubs in Frankfurt, all under one owner. They were referred to as MacGowan's Zeil (as it's on Zeil street) and MacGowan's Bornheim (my local). Actually, my pub is no longer owned by MacGowan's, and there is some confusion as to what the actual name is. Simply calling it the pub works for me, though.
This particular evening was my first time in MacGowan's Zeil. It's nice, and is actually a bit smaller than my local. But, it feels a bit more snug. The barman was from Australia, and he let me know which television would show the Arsenal match. Three TVs in the pub, and ultimately the smaller two would show ManU-Lille, and the big one would show Arsenal-PSV. Bayern Munich was playing Real Madrid, but the pub elected not to show that match.
I arrived an hour early, had a nice sandwich, then did my normal Arsenal match watching routine where I couldn't decide whether to stand or sit, constantly twitched, and gulped Guinness. That was all before kick-off.
Well, Arsenal scored off an own goal from PSV, and that was going to enable us to go to extra time. They needed another goal, but failed to convert their chances. After a rather silly foul deep in Arsenal's end, PSV sent the free kick into the box, and the same villain from PSV responsible for the Arsenal goal rose high above any Arsenal player and headed a brilliant goal. Score 1-1. Since PSV won the first leg, Arsenal needed to win the second leg, without allowing any goals. This didn't happen, and at full time, Arsenal was out of Champs League.
In two weeks, Arsenal have crashed out of everything. Finishing 3rd in the domestic league is their target now. Disappointing, but oh well, life goes on.
A German Arsenal fan named Richard has watched several matches at our local, and we frequently talk football when we meet. He'd indicated to me the night before during Liverpool's match that he had to work Wednesday, so I was actually surprised when he joined me to watch Arsenal's exit. I normally like to suffer these defeats by myself, but he was just as down as I was. The comfort was there, and all of us who support the Gunners can be proud of their accomplishments this season, even without silverware.
The U-Bahn ride home was solemn, but I've been an Arsenal fan long enough to know that this is just part of it. A night's sleep would put a fresh outlook on things. One positive would be that I wouldn't have to be a nervous wreck during the remaining matches.
Thursday I endured a little razzing from some colleagues at work, but that stopped when I poured a cup of coffee on a Bayern fan who was a little too cocky. (note - that sentence was completely fictitious; it was only water)
Part of my fresh outlook on the day was to hit the gym on the way home. By noon, however, that plan went down in flames as challenge number 946 hit me right between the eyes. Implementing and managing this project has been no easy task, but it seems for the past two weeks especially, everything that could go wrong has managed to do so with colossal magnitude.
Fortunately, I actually get off on these types of challenges, even though it takes a great deal out of me. I finally got out of the office around 8, and beelined to the pub for a pint. The intent was to have two beers, then a kebap, then off to bed, hopefully by 11.
Sonja and her new friend were already sitting at the bar, and after a quick greeting, I moved down to the end, where I met a man named Charles, who was sending an sms to his sister.
We started talking, and it turns out he's a Dubliner, but has lived in Germany for close to 17 years. He was in good spirits, and helped to improve my mood. A bit later, another friend of his showed up, and a bit after that, Stefan arrived. The four of us continued to cut up and enjoy the rounds of pints. Sonja came up to say a quick goodbye, and after she left, Charles made a comment that he hadn't seen anyone who showed so much tragedy in their face. I was surprised at his comment, but knew he was dead on.
It's true that Sonja has a few personal issues, but I know very little about them. Yes, there is some pain in her face, and one might conclude that she drinks quite a bit, but I'm absolutely in no position to pass judgement on either of those two issues. I've been a bit concerned about her more than once, and hope that she works out her life to her satisfaction.
So, Charles' friend left Stefan, Charles and I to have a few more pints, and obviously I'd exceeded my two pint limit by three possibly four. Stefan and I caught up a bit, then Charles explained a bit more about his work: he runs a small publishing company. That led to some additional conversation, and long story short, it's possible that I've got a way to stay in Germany should I screw up this program. Three months in and I've already got a contingency plan. Super. At the very least, I may get some consulting work out of it. And best of all, I made another friend who is willing to help explain the finer points of settling in Frankfurt. That assistance is greatly appreciated. The chimney sweep comes to my house Monday morning for an inspection, so I may need Charles' help sooner than expected.
It's time for the weekend, so I'll wrap this up with a few quickies:
Brandon, Karla, and Isabella - many congratulations - this world will be a better place with another Adams.
Jeff - congrats on the house - good luck with the move
Moe - thanks for the Indian Guides pics from summer. Very cool.
Heather - hope you're still hitting the gym. feel free to hit Kevin too.
To the Greenville Ave St Pat's block party skippers this year - it's not often you get to celebrate on the actual day, but the PingPong action sounds fun. However, I've not met a single German who is looking for a game of table tennis. I'll keep looking, but not on Saturday the 17th.
Trina - feel free to send me another compilation of punk songs that I'm probably too old to listen to - it's helping to create some additional excitement at my local.
To everyone thanks for the support, the emails, the happy thoughts. Special thanks to Goliad and the B-man.
Pablo, Vielen Dank für Alles. Airlift 1 ist hier! What a perfect way to arrive home at 2.30am.
I've been smiling all day.
keep the faith
bryan
Soundtrack
Front 242 - Tragedy For You
Street Dogs - Savin Hill
La Ley - El Duelo
Dropkick Murphys - Time To Go
Big Audio Dynamite - Rush
Initially, I didn't reflect too much about that post, but during a conversation with my sister last week, where she asked for the real story (along with updates) about the "brush off" event, I realized that my post might have come across as a little depressive and wallowy.
Let me take a moment to clarify things. I was more intrigued by the incident than anything else. When you meet a new friend, you go through the frequent hanging out stage, and I was just surprised that she did an abrupt back pedal; things had never progressed past the "heyhowyadoinletshavesomepintsandmaybeseearockshowtogetheroh
yourelockedoutofyourapartmentwellyoudbetterstayatmyplacetonight
sinceIhaveasparebed" stage. In short, this isn't all that different than the times I hung out in Dallas, had too much to drink, and had to stay at someones apartment. Of course, my situation was slightly unusual cos' if I got too drunk at McKee's, I was, er, already home. And more than once I locked myself out of my flat, too...
Yes, there was an awkward couple of days where Sonja felt uncomfortable, feeling that she'd hurt me, where in fact, she was misunderstanding my distorted facial expressions: I was being cautious, but also living a life with a mind filled to the brim with thoughts about the project I'm doing, learning a new language, and Arsenal football. I've since had a look in the mirror and better understand why she was thinking what she was.
Fortunately, the awkwardness from two weeks ago passed within a couple of days. By the end of the week, the comfort level was there and there you have it. In fact, she sat through several Arsenal matches with me: the FA Cup, the Carling Cup final, and the FA Cup replay. I'm not holding anything against her even though Arsenal failed to win any of those games.
This past week, she's become a little more uncomfortable again. She's been hanging out a lot with some new guy, and it seems that she gets a little nervous when I come into the pub and see them. I'm not completely sure why, but I'm not concerned. I've got too many other things going on. Besides, I have Heike, Susi, Barbara, and Helen right where they want me...
Now, on to more exciting things.
The job has blown wide open. The lack of posts in the past two weeks comes down to the amount of time I've had to spend fighting the political battles, overcoming production obstacles, dealing with a demanding customer, and "babysitting." I knew when I returned to this company that I'd be going right back into the same old crap that made me leave the job in the first place. All that aside, though, it's totally the right element for me. Swashbuckling program management, you know. Be. Like. No.Other.
I'll spare further boring professional details, for now. On to the updates on things like domestic appliances and DSL.
Laundry was a problem for me back in January. With a little patience and some extra spin cycles, I finally mastered the finer points of my washing machine. I'm used to drying my clothes on a rack that I set up in my bathroom. Sure, I'd love to dry my clothes out on a clothesline off my balcony, but no one else does it, so I can't either. Sometimes being the first on your block isn't the right thing to do, especially in Germany. I'd rather pick those battles, anyway.
A couple of Saturdays ago, I decided that I would run the dishwasher, since I'd accumulated a sink load of dirty plates and silverware and didn't feel like hand washing them. So, I loaded the machine (der Geschirrspüler, and yep, that word didn't just roll off my tongue the first 50 times I tried to say it), made a cup of coffee, then went into the living room to watch a bit of TV.
30 minutes later, I entered the kitchen to find a floor covered in soapsuds. Just so you'll have the comfort of knowing that I'm still on the positive mindset, I immediately thought of how clean my floor was going to be after I mopped up. After all, I needed to clean the kitchen that day anyway.
True, I realized my mistake: too much soap in an undersized machine, one that has only icons around the dial. I had merely pressed buttons and hoped for the best. What I got was hot soapy plates, a machine that hadn't drained, and a floor resembling a bubble bath.
I eventually sorted things out, and had to clean the dishes by hand anyway. I don't expect to use that machine again in future.
Last Friday afternoon, I took the afternoon off to sit at home and wait for the phone technician. Since mid-January, I've "had" DSL, only my box sat on permanent blinking green, which means that I don't have a DSL signal. The process of getting support from the help desk proved a bit tedious, because I wasn't able to call them up personally and explain the situation. Thus, my estate agent was doing the go between. Ultimately, after about three line checks with a response, "Alles klar," each time, I pointed out that, "Nein, Alles is NICHT klar."
From there, I got an appointment for last Friday afternoon between the hours of 2 and 8 for a guy to come out to the house and see what was up.
I made it to my apartment about 3, hoping that the telecom guy wouldn't be punctual. Sure enough, no one had tried to reach me, so I opened the mail, folded some clothes, and then answered the phone at 3.30 to someone who said, "Jetzt gehts." Now it works.
I looked down to see a constant green on my box, and smiled.
5 minutes later I was on line and checking up on the latest sports scores and weather reports. (feel free to interpret this as surfing porn...I don't care)
So, with a little patience, you, too, can obtain DSL service in Frankfurt.
I celebrated Friday evening by heading to my local, where I proceeded to get well and truly hammered with Stefan and Sonja. This actually led to me leaving the bar prematurely (not before one too many Baby Guinness, and please, don't even ask) and staggering home for a little nighty huuff! night.
Saturday began with a bit of toast and coffee and some internet. Ahh. Finally an opportunity to read the match previews before kickoff. From there, a trip to the gym, a haircut, and a bit of shopping. I skipped any opportunity for additional beers and made it a very early night, made slightly more comfortable by an Arsenal victory against Reading.
Sunday was pretty much like Saturday, except there was no haircut and no shopping. I did manage a trip to the pub later in the afternoon, but that was driven mainly by the opportunity to pick up a guitar. One of the barmen, Tom, has kindly loaned me his acoustic 6 string for a couple of weeks as I shop around. It's pretty nice, feels great, and sounds quite bright in my apartment. Unfortunately, my fingers have not been able to do all of things that my mind tells them to, so the first time I played sounded a bit like it sounds when you accidentally step on a cat. What a difference a year's layoff can make.
Back to the work thing. I'm impressed with the sense of humor of my colleagues in England. We have a very challenging program, with a very demanding customer. We've had more than our share of hiccups and obstacles, yet we keep pounding through, and we keep laughing. My German colleagues are finally getting the true picture of what a basket case truly looks like, but they're also beginning to realize and respect just what I bring to the team. Personally, I'm a little tired of having to offer up my first born child in order to get a CAPEX approved with the CFO, and this past Monday evening, I had to put my job on the line: if we're not profitable on this program, I'm out of the job.
After a statement like that, it's no surprise that I headed straight to the pub for a little relaxation. I found English John there and we had an excellent chat about music. John is closer to 50, and has slightly different music tastes from me, but he impressively knows about quite a few bands that I'm currently grooving to. I realized that I was carrying a nice tasty compilation that Trina had sent me a long time ago, so I asked Tom (who has quite the excellent taste in music himself; a Serbian Smiths fan - who'd have guessed?) to pop it in the CD player. Suddenly, the pub went from the Happy Mondays to a rousing Anti-Flag song. There was an immediate buzz among the other patrons, and John and I sat and listened for close to an hour, chatting merrily about the various songs from the Dropkick Murphys, Bouncing Souls, and Street Dogs. (for Jose Miguel - Tu nececitas comprar el disco de Street Dogs. El lider estaba en Dropkick Murphys hace diez años. Es fenomenal!)
Eventually, Goran (other Serbian barman) arrived with some friends, and I had to join him in a whiskey to celebrate his third anniversary in Germany. I certainly didn't need the shot, but you might argue that I probably didn't need the four Guinness I'd already had, either. After the drink and the greetings, I headed for home for some needed sleep. The week was going to be extra busy.
My problem with Champs League is that I cannot stay away from the matches. That pretty much means that I've got to go to the pub since I've no satellite TV. Two nights a week, just about every two weeks, for most of the football season. Springtime is pretty busy in European football, but during the week, it makes for a bit of a challenge; quite a few late nights in a row.
Liverpool - Barca was a good match. I wanted Liverpool to go through mostly so that Arsenal, assuming they advanced to the next round, wouldn't have to play Barcelona. I have a fondness for Liverpool in their traditions, both old and new. Besides, Rafa Benitez coached Valencia before moving to the UK. Congrats to Sean and Muzzy; maybe the final will be AC Milan and Liverpool one more time.
The other matches were predictable: Chelsea and Roma both got through. Valencia held on for a goalless draw which enabled them to advance (from the away goals rule; they tied 2-2 against Inter in the first leg). Right on.
I went right home after the match to try and get a bit more than 5 hours a sleep, which has been the steady average over the past months. Wednesday was the day for Arsenal's match, and they were faced with a sizable challenge.
The Wednesday workday was a blur of meetings, conference calls, and panic. I left work an hour later than I wanted, but that was probably a good thing. Champs League matches start around 8.45pm. Like I said, it can make for a late night.
My local really only has one TV that is reliable, so I had already elected to watch the match in another pub. A few years ago, there were several MacGowan's pubs in Frankfurt, all under one owner. They were referred to as MacGowan's Zeil (as it's on Zeil street) and MacGowan's Bornheim (my local). Actually, my pub is no longer owned by MacGowan's, and there is some confusion as to what the actual name is. Simply calling it the pub works for me, though.
This particular evening was my first time in MacGowan's Zeil. It's nice, and is actually a bit smaller than my local. But, it feels a bit more snug. The barman was from Australia, and he let me know which television would show the Arsenal match. Three TVs in the pub, and ultimately the smaller two would show ManU-Lille, and the big one would show Arsenal-PSV. Bayern Munich was playing Real Madrid, but the pub elected not to show that match.
I arrived an hour early, had a nice sandwich, then did my normal Arsenal match watching routine where I couldn't decide whether to stand or sit, constantly twitched, and gulped Guinness. That was all before kick-off.
Well, Arsenal scored off an own goal from PSV, and that was going to enable us to go to extra time. They needed another goal, but failed to convert their chances. After a rather silly foul deep in Arsenal's end, PSV sent the free kick into the box, and the same villain from PSV responsible for the Arsenal goal rose high above any Arsenal player and headed a brilliant goal. Score 1-1. Since PSV won the first leg, Arsenal needed to win the second leg, without allowing any goals. This didn't happen, and at full time, Arsenal was out of Champs League.
In two weeks, Arsenal have crashed out of everything. Finishing 3rd in the domestic league is their target now. Disappointing, but oh well, life goes on.
A German Arsenal fan named Richard has watched several matches at our local, and we frequently talk football when we meet. He'd indicated to me the night before during Liverpool's match that he had to work Wednesday, so I was actually surprised when he joined me to watch Arsenal's exit. I normally like to suffer these defeats by myself, but he was just as down as I was. The comfort was there, and all of us who support the Gunners can be proud of their accomplishments this season, even without silverware.
The U-Bahn ride home was solemn, but I've been an Arsenal fan long enough to know that this is just part of it. A night's sleep would put a fresh outlook on things. One positive would be that I wouldn't have to be a nervous wreck during the remaining matches.
Thursday I endured a little razzing from some colleagues at work, but that stopped when I poured a cup of coffee on a Bayern fan who was a little too cocky. (note - that sentence was completely fictitious; it was only water)
Part of my fresh outlook on the day was to hit the gym on the way home. By noon, however, that plan went down in flames as challenge number 946 hit me right between the eyes. Implementing and managing this project has been no easy task, but it seems for the past two weeks especially, everything that could go wrong has managed to do so with colossal magnitude.
Fortunately, I actually get off on these types of challenges, even though it takes a great deal out of me. I finally got out of the office around 8, and beelined to the pub for a pint. The intent was to have two beers, then a kebap, then off to bed, hopefully by 11.
Sonja and her new friend were already sitting at the bar, and after a quick greeting, I moved down to the end, where I met a man named Charles, who was sending an sms to his sister.
We started talking, and it turns out he's a Dubliner, but has lived in Germany for close to 17 years. He was in good spirits, and helped to improve my mood. A bit later, another friend of his showed up, and a bit after that, Stefan arrived. The four of us continued to cut up and enjoy the rounds of pints. Sonja came up to say a quick goodbye, and after she left, Charles made a comment that he hadn't seen anyone who showed so much tragedy in their face. I was surprised at his comment, but knew he was dead on.
It's true that Sonja has a few personal issues, but I know very little about them. Yes, there is some pain in her face, and one might conclude that she drinks quite a bit, but I'm absolutely in no position to pass judgement on either of those two issues. I've been a bit concerned about her more than once, and hope that she works out her life to her satisfaction.
So, Charles' friend left Stefan, Charles and I to have a few more pints, and obviously I'd exceeded my two pint limit by three possibly four. Stefan and I caught up a bit, then Charles explained a bit more about his work: he runs a small publishing company. That led to some additional conversation, and long story short, it's possible that I've got a way to stay in Germany should I screw up this program. Three months in and I've already got a contingency plan. Super. At the very least, I may get some consulting work out of it. And best of all, I made another friend who is willing to help explain the finer points of settling in Frankfurt. That assistance is greatly appreciated. The chimney sweep comes to my house Monday morning for an inspection, so I may need Charles' help sooner than expected.
It's time for the weekend, so I'll wrap this up with a few quickies:
Brandon, Karla, and Isabella - many congratulations - this world will be a better place with another Adams.
Jeff - congrats on the house - good luck with the move
Moe - thanks for the Indian Guides pics from summer. Very cool.
Heather - hope you're still hitting the gym. feel free to hit Kevin too.
To the Greenville Ave St Pat's block party skippers this year - it's not often you get to celebrate on the actual day, but the PingPong action sounds fun. However, I've not met a single German who is looking for a game of table tennis. I'll keep looking, but not on Saturday the 17th.
Trina - feel free to send me another compilation of punk songs that I'm probably too old to listen to - it's helping to create some additional excitement at my local.
To everyone thanks for the support, the emails, the happy thoughts. Special thanks to Goliad and the B-man.
Pablo, Vielen Dank für Alles. Airlift 1 ist hier! What a perfect way to arrive home at 2.30am.
I've been smiling all day.
keep the faith
bryan
Soundtrack
Front 242 - Tragedy For You
Street Dogs - Savin Hill
La Ley - El Duelo
Dropkick Murphys - Time To Go
Big Audio Dynamite - Rush
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)