Well, I am going to start off this week's update by relating a little story from when I was about 15 or 16. I was at a pool party playing frisbee with a friend of mine. He was at the shallow end of the pool, near the hottub, and I was at the deep end. As it turned out, everyone else at the party was in the hottub save for the two of us, though one shouldn't read too much into that. First off, it was a church youth party; it's not as if things were getting way out of hand, and furthermore, I was already the type of guy who would stand alone at the deep end.
Looking back, I do still smile at the humor of it all. It wasn't too funny at the time, but it wasn't so UNfunny, either, you know? I mean, how was I supposed to know that I would be able to zing the frisbee with such skill and inaccuracy that, instead of being caught in the hands of my buddy, it caught some poor girl three feet to his left right between her eyes. All things considered, it was somewhat unfortunate, since as soon as I saw what was going to happen, I yelled (something to the effect of) "fore!", and everyone else in the hottub sort of matrixed out of the way just in the nick of time, except, like I said, for the one girl who was a bit slow on the take.
Fortunately, she wasn't really hurt (kind of bonk on the head for a day or two, as I recall), though the whole thing did sort of put a damper on the rest of the evening. I felt truly horrible about it, and at the time really wanted to slip into the deep end and stay underwater until everyone went home. However, I managed to apologize somewhat feebly, and she more or less accepted that I had most certainly not intended for that to happen. Perhaps I could have been a bit more cognizant of the hazzards of summer sports (stay tuned for next week's bit, possibly entitled, "dang, we need to be more careful with the hacky sack on Bergerstrasse - I hope that little kid is ok.") but it really was just an accident.
True, this incident didn't scar me for life; I was already a fan of Joy Divison and also knew I'd always be something of an enigma. No surprise that some 25 years later, it's business as usual. I'm still fairly thoughtful, though that's not to say I don't still have my moments where I really wished I'd been a bit more, er, aware.
Take last weekend, for example. True, I was just back from an extended business trip and was having a bit of a struggle getting back into the swing of things. In all honesty, I felt a little like I had to get reaquainted with everything and everyone, and I was away for only two weeks. But, that's the feeling you get sometimes when you're an Auslaender. I can't use that as my sole excuse, since I'm not the greatest at accepting compliments, or simply saying, "thanks" when someone extends a very kind gesture to me.
Upon my return, I was sort of overwhelmed at the reception I got from folks who were glad to see me back in town. Throughout the weekend, people were giving me belated birthday greetings and otherwise simply saying hello and welcome back.
I got invited to brunch on Sunday morning via a text message that came late Saturday night, and I actually said that I'd be there. Sunday brunch in the neighborhood is sort of a regular thing here, just as going to the gym for on Sunday morning is for me. While I was a little curious about the invite at the time (normally it's just a planned event), I figured I would stop by for a coffee, which I kind of do from time to time, anway.
But, Sunday morning I woke up still feeling a bit strange, and decided that a bit more alone time would do me good. I trooped off to the gym and in short, missed the beginning of my suprise birthday brunch.
Had I carried my handy with me into the weight room, I might have reacted a bit sooner. Instead, post workout, I found 4-5 missed calls on my phone, and suddenly realized that I'd been a real jerk. A quick phone call to say, "I'm on my way," then I waited impatiently for the U-Bahn to get me back to my neighborhood.
I tried to act casual when I walked up to the table where some folks had gathered to wait for me, and, erm, have brunch. Out came a bit of Kuchen, complete with candles, and I felt like the world's biggest idiot.
Mostly everyone made sarcastic remarks about my tardiness, all of which I truly deserved. Thank goodness everyone was still rather friendly about things (in Germany, punctuality is key), but I knew well and good that I'd crossed the line; several people cared enough to organize a little gathering for me, and I basically blew it off.
I was kind of looking around for a swimming pool (particularly the deep end), but in the end made do with some Legos, a few leaves, and the extinguished birthday candles; I humbly, nervously played (ok, there was a 3 year old there, also) with the make shift toys as I tried to work through the awkwardness of being 2 hours late to my own party.
I'm rather fortunate to have a few people here who do care enough about me to sort of forgive my discourteousness. I certainly apologized, but know that I was let off lightly. (Probably a good thing that there wasn't a frisbee nearby...otherwise someone might have had a zing at me)
But, that's what happens when you allow people to get close to you. Funny how it's not always a two-way street, huh?
At any rate, the afternoon was quite nice, and I was really quite touched by the whole experience. I'm not a huge fan of my birthdays, as we all know. Thank goodness there are people out there who are above that, and that I know some of them.
Naturally, I was in a great mood as I went back to work on Monday (apart from the lingering embarrassment of the previous day's cock up), and found myself once again a bit overwhelmed when a few colleagues gave me a birthday card and a nice bottle of wine. "You're one of the best bosses that we've ever had, and we just wanted to say thanks and Happy Birthday."
As if that weren't enough, at the end of the weekly management meeting on Tuesday, my boss stood up and congratulated me on behalf of the company. My colleagues gave me an Arsenal jersey, which was totally unexpected and quite cool, too.
Thus, it has been kind of a fuzzy and very educational week. I had to sort out a problem for a customer who totally appreciated of my efforts and personal involvement, and then last night I was at, um, a birthday party (it's always easier for me to celebrate someone else) and, during a quiet moment, realized how great it is to see someone simply being gracious and appreciative, not to mention, on time.
So that's how you do it...
keep the faith
bryan
Friday, April 30, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Worth the Wait?
So, about midweek, I got a text from the office manager informing me that she had booked some flights for my return to Germany Thursday afternoon. She was "reasonably" sure...
I watched a little champions league on tv, and sort of reflected on my little extended visit to Ireland. As frustrating as the experience of not being able to leave the country when I wanted to, it was actually quite nice in the end. Quiet (deliberately, as I mentioned before), but nice.
Outside on the terrace of the hotel pub, I met a few couples from the US who were also stranded. They mentioned that they were flying to Sioux City, and I happend to mention that I used to have Gateway as a customer. We laughed about some of the stories from the region, particularly involving the computer company.
At one point, one of the men, who was particularly chatty, indicated that he was in his early 70s but (he proudly stated) that he looked much younger. Indeed, he looked more late 50s than anything else. An unfortunate elderly looking Irish man was also outside, and he sort of looked crestfallen as he said that he was only 64 himself. We all knew that he looked easily late 70s. Interesting how cultures and lands will change people...
Mr "proud to be a young looking" retiree then struck up a conversation with the waitress, who had come outside for a cigarette. As we were discussing ages, he decided to try to score some points with the girl by saying that one should always reduce the age of a woman by five years when guessing her age. Before I could jump in and say, "perhaps one should just skip the whole age topic alltogether (since I'd recently had a lengthy chat about this very topic and the dangerous elements associated with it back in Bornheim)," this man looked at the waitress and came up with the number 25.
I knew good and well that she was several years younger, but allowed the girl to sort of indignantly retort that she was 23. This man had put himself right in by suggesting that she looked closer to 30.
Truth be told, she did look somewhat mature for her age, but in my experience you need simply to look in someone's eys to see their innocence. (How's that for a very ridiculous statement on a Saturday morning...sounds like a fucking song lyric). Alas, the incident passed without any bloodshed, but I did take the opportunity to retell the story when the man's wife came outside a few minutes later.
Though I had confirmed bookings for Thursday, I was still antsy about getting home. Only when I was on the flight from London to Frankfurt would I be relieved, I told myself.
I checked out of the hotel Thursday morning, initially with a bit of sadness (I don't like goodbyes too much). The folks at the hotel had really taken care of me, though most of them would argue that they'd actually only done their jobs. Fair point, and it was a bit annoying that my credit card wasn't accepted when I tried to pay the whopping bill (overnight stay, laundry, dinners, and a handful (or 20) of pints). I ended up having to use an American account, which meant I'd take an exchange rate hit. But, it was time to go.
The receptionsist at the office where I'd been over the past couple of weeks realized that I was finally going to be leaving, and arranged to get a taxi for me during the middle of the afternoon. Because the airports were all just starting to reopen, none of us knew exactly what to expect. Would the airports suddenly become crowded with thousands of people racing off trying to organize flights again?
Turns out the answer was no. Shannon airport was extremely quiet when I checked in. I got a very panicky feeling when the man told me I'd have to collect my bags in London and recheck them to Frankfurt; I was to have only 90 minutes between flights in London, and typically they like for you to have about 2 hours between transfers.
Our flight to London was half full, and I had the row to myself. I continued to read a book about a girl with a tattoo on her back and made great progress in the hour long flight.
Upon arrival at Heathrow, I was hoping for a miracle: that my luggage would be first out of the chute, that no really slow people would be walking in front of me, that the check in desk would be centrally located.
At the baggage carousel, my bag came out in the middle group, it could have been worse. I grabbed it and immediately found myself in a very narrow corridor behind a man walking with a cane and a rolling bag. Just ahead of him was a 4 year old wrestling with a junior sized roller.
I watched for my chance to slip around them, then zipped on through at a pretty good clip. I arrived into a large check in hall, and looked about for the Lufthansa desk, hoping like hell it wasn't where I saw the largest queue.
Time was ticking, I had about 30 minutes before the flight was to board, and two weeks ago it took me about 40 minutes to get through security. I finally asked a lady in zone A where I might find the Lufthansa desk, and she politely responded that Lufthansa was in zone K. Fuck me, that's a lot of letters away!
I did that little walk/run thing that you do when hurrying through an airport, not really huffing, but kind of wondering why I thought it necessary to have brought two grammar books with me on the trip (thus adding additional weight to my bag). I found zone K, and it was dead quiet, but all the signs on the screens showed some Polish airline, and my heart kind of sank.
Then suddenly, the screens all changed back to Lufthansa! I walked to the desk next to me, the guy calmly checked my bag, handed me my boarding card, and wished me a good flight.
Security turned out to be a lovely experience. There was no one in the queue. That must have been because things were just starting to get going again in this, probably the busiest airport I've ever been in.
I got to my gate, and 10 minutes later we were boarding. Again, I had the row to myself, and I relaxed as I reopened my book. My luggage was on the plane, I was on the plane, and we were going to be on time.
My bag popped out of the chute in Frankfurt about 90 minutes later, and I went outside for some nicotine, somewhat disappointed in myself for having already abandoned my plan to not smoke again on German soil. That said, I enjoyed the hell out of the butt, even as I stood next to my taxi (the cabbie was smoking, also).
Back in Bornheim 20 minutes later, I threw my gear upstairs, then headed next door for a pint or two. I was home, and had elected to take the following day off. A couple of late night beers would help me sleep.
The quiz was finishing up, and I received a hearty greeting from the normal suspects. The tea candle on top of a bag of chips (an imprompto belated birthday gift on account that I'd mentioned I hadn't eaten during the course of the day) was a nice touch. I made my wish, blew out the candle, had another pint, then went home to bed.
Friday was a quiet return to normal service. I had a couple of coffees, did some wash, ignored my emails, made it on time to my dentist appointment (finally) then spent an hour or two in the plaza having coffee. Sort of surreal coming back to a neighborhood where seemingly nothing has changed, yet everything has changed. A slightly uncomfortable feeling, but kind of ok, too.
I'd purchased half a kilo of coffee at the local shop, then received another 250 grams as a belated birthday present, and when I got home to put it all away, I realized I had another unopened 250 grams. However, at the rate I go through espressos, it should tie me over for a week or so.
The weather was quite pleasant the whole time I was in Ireland, and here in Germany, it's even better. I got to bed early on Friday night (I'm reading the next book in the series, where the girl is now playing with fire) and am almost through 200 grams of coffee so far Saturday morning as I do some more washing and apartment cleanup.
With that, I'm going to wrap this up, so I can spend the rest of the weekend enjoying the sunshine. Sobriety optional.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack -
The Police - Reggata de Blanc
Bruce Springsteen - Jungleland (for my Irish buddy who may just have a bit of Jersey in him)
Ministry - Revenge (it's nice to know that this is still on the 12" circuit, at least in clubs in Austin)
Thrice - Stare at the Sun
Bouncing Souls - That Song
I watched a little champions league on tv, and sort of reflected on my little extended visit to Ireland. As frustrating as the experience of not being able to leave the country when I wanted to, it was actually quite nice in the end. Quiet (deliberately, as I mentioned before), but nice.
Outside on the terrace of the hotel pub, I met a few couples from the US who were also stranded. They mentioned that they were flying to Sioux City, and I happend to mention that I used to have Gateway as a customer. We laughed about some of the stories from the region, particularly involving the computer company.
At one point, one of the men, who was particularly chatty, indicated that he was in his early 70s but (he proudly stated) that he looked much younger. Indeed, he looked more late 50s than anything else. An unfortunate elderly looking Irish man was also outside, and he sort of looked crestfallen as he said that he was only 64 himself. We all knew that he looked easily late 70s. Interesting how cultures and lands will change people...
Mr "proud to be a young looking" retiree then struck up a conversation with the waitress, who had come outside for a cigarette. As we were discussing ages, he decided to try to score some points with the girl by saying that one should always reduce the age of a woman by five years when guessing her age. Before I could jump in and say, "perhaps one should just skip the whole age topic alltogether (since I'd recently had a lengthy chat about this very topic and the dangerous elements associated with it back in Bornheim)," this man looked at the waitress and came up with the number 25.
I knew good and well that she was several years younger, but allowed the girl to sort of indignantly retort that she was 23. This man had put himself right in by suggesting that she looked closer to 30.
Truth be told, she did look somewhat mature for her age, but in my experience you need simply to look in someone's eys to see their innocence. (How's that for a very ridiculous statement on a Saturday morning...sounds like a fucking song lyric). Alas, the incident passed without any bloodshed, but I did take the opportunity to retell the story when the man's wife came outside a few minutes later.
Though I had confirmed bookings for Thursday, I was still antsy about getting home. Only when I was on the flight from London to Frankfurt would I be relieved, I told myself.
I checked out of the hotel Thursday morning, initially with a bit of sadness (I don't like goodbyes too much). The folks at the hotel had really taken care of me, though most of them would argue that they'd actually only done their jobs. Fair point, and it was a bit annoying that my credit card wasn't accepted when I tried to pay the whopping bill (overnight stay, laundry, dinners, and a handful (or 20) of pints). I ended up having to use an American account, which meant I'd take an exchange rate hit. But, it was time to go.
The receptionsist at the office where I'd been over the past couple of weeks realized that I was finally going to be leaving, and arranged to get a taxi for me during the middle of the afternoon. Because the airports were all just starting to reopen, none of us knew exactly what to expect. Would the airports suddenly become crowded with thousands of people racing off trying to organize flights again?
Turns out the answer was no. Shannon airport was extremely quiet when I checked in. I got a very panicky feeling when the man told me I'd have to collect my bags in London and recheck them to Frankfurt; I was to have only 90 minutes between flights in London, and typically they like for you to have about 2 hours between transfers.
Our flight to London was half full, and I had the row to myself. I continued to read a book about a girl with a tattoo on her back and made great progress in the hour long flight.
Upon arrival at Heathrow, I was hoping for a miracle: that my luggage would be first out of the chute, that no really slow people would be walking in front of me, that the check in desk would be centrally located.
At the baggage carousel, my bag came out in the middle group, it could have been worse. I grabbed it and immediately found myself in a very narrow corridor behind a man walking with a cane and a rolling bag. Just ahead of him was a 4 year old wrestling with a junior sized roller.
I watched for my chance to slip around them, then zipped on through at a pretty good clip. I arrived into a large check in hall, and looked about for the Lufthansa desk, hoping like hell it wasn't where I saw the largest queue.
Time was ticking, I had about 30 minutes before the flight was to board, and two weeks ago it took me about 40 minutes to get through security. I finally asked a lady in zone A where I might find the Lufthansa desk, and she politely responded that Lufthansa was in zone K. Fuck me, that's a lot of letters away!
I did that little walk/run thing that you do when hurrying through an airport, not really huffing, but kind of wondering why I thought it necessary to have brought two grammar books with me on the trip (thus adding additional weight to my bag). I found zone K, and it was dead quiet, but all the signs on the screens showed some Polish airline, and my heart kind of sank.
Then suddenly, the screens all changed back to Lufthansa! I walked to the desk next to me, the guy calmly checked my bag, handed me my boarding card, and wished me a good flight.
Security turned out to be a lovely experience. There was no one in the queue. That must have been because things were just starting to get going again in this, probably the busiest airport I've ever been in.
I got to my gate, and 10 minutes later we were boarding. Again, I had the row to myself, and I relaxed as I reopened my book. My luggage was on the plane, I was on the plane, and we were going to be on time.
My bag popped out of the chute in Frankfurt about 90 minutes later, and I went outside for some nicotine, somewhat disappointed in myself for having already abandoned my plan to not smoke again on German soil. That said, I enjoyed the hell out of the butt, even as I stood next to my taxi (the cabbie was smoking, also).
Back in Bornheim 20 minutes later, I threw my gear upstairs, then headed next door for a pint or two. I was home, and had elected to take the following day off. A couple of late night beers would help me sleep.
The quiz was finishing up, and I received a hearty greeting from the normal suspects. The tea candle on top of a bag of chips (an imprompto belated birthday gift on account that I'd mentioned I hadn't eaten during the course of the day) was a nice touch. I made my wish, blew out the candle, had another pint, then went home to bed.
Friday was a quiet return to normal service. I had a couple of coffees, did some wash, ignored my emails, made it on time to my dentist appointment (finally) then spent an hour or two in the plaza having coffee. Sort of surreal coming back to a neighborhood where seemingly nothing has changed, yet everything has changed. A slightly uncomfortable feeling, but kind of ok, too.
I'd purchased half a kilo of coffee at the local shop, then received another 250 grams as a belated birthday present, and when I got home to put it all away, I realized I had another unopened 250 grams. However, at the rate I go through espressos, it should tie me over for a week or so.
The weather was quite pleasant the whole time I was in Ireland, and here in Germany, it's even better. I got to bed early on Friday night (I'm reading the next book in the series, where the girl is now playing with fire) and am almost through 200 grams of coffee so far Saturday morning as I do some more washing and apartment cleanup.
With that, I'm going to wrap this up, so I can spend the rest of the weekend enjoying the sunshine. Sobriety optional.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack -
The Police - Reggata de Blanc
Bruce Springsteen - Jungleland (for my Irish buddy who may just have a bit of Jersey in him)
Ministry - Revenge (it's nice to know that this is still on the 12" circuit, at least in clubs in Austin)
Thrice - Stare at the Sun
Bouncing Souls - That Song
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Waiting Game
I touched down at Shannon Airport the other Monday and immediately thought, "Gosh, it hasn't changed much in the last 20 years." It looked almost identical to how I saw it back then.
The supplier I was to visit was only minutes from the airport. I was a bit anxious about the whole visit, as I'm sort of the "available" resource that got thrown into things. True, I'm probably the right person for the task, but I did have the initial feeling I was in a bit over my head.
The cab driver delivered me to the wrong location initially, which was both comical and frustrating, but my counterpart came and collected me within a couple of minutes, and I realized we'd be OK as soon as I heard some Bruce Springsteen blaring from his car stereo.
Fifteen minutes later I'd met about 10 minutes people, all with Irish names, and I was a bit overwhelmed. But, I was finding my stride pretty quickly and was eager to get on with things. The contact center is an important element to our operation, and the last time we tried this (see the blogs from early 2007) we (my company and I) did a pretty fair job of cocking things up. Though the decision to move the call center into Ireland from Scotland wasn't mine, I was determined to make sure we didn't make the same mistake a second time.
We had some productive meetings during the course of the afternoon, and I was exhausted at the end of the day when I got to my hotel nearby the offices. At check in, I didn't pay much attention when the lady tried to draw me a map from reception to my room, and I regretted it ten minutes later while I was wandering up and down the longest corridors I've ever seen in search of room 287.
At last I found my room, and quickly unpacked my things, ready for a bit of dinner and a pint or two. I still got lost on the way back to the hotel bar, but figured that in a day or two, I'd have the layout pretty well under control.
Because the call center is multilingual, it was interesting to hear everyone speak. Besides the natives, all the expats, including the German and the Spanish, also spoke with Irish accents. I actually wasn't that surprised by this, as I'd encountered the same thing while in Edinburgh. However, it is particularly noticable when you're around a lot of people who have to talk for a living.
I found a similar thing at the hotel pub; the Indian barman, who has been in Ireland for easily five years, was sounding pretty authentic. However, I smiled more than once as I listened to him say, "Howyeah?" (typical Northside Dub) because it came out, "How are you?" about as crisp as you like.
My colleagues took me out for dinner Wednesday night, and we got to know one another a bit better. We strengthened our relationship a bit further the following evening when my counterpart and I discussed the quality of Nick Cave, Tom Waits, and the Gaslight Anthem over a beer. The guy is quite into music, though he misunderstood my earlier remark about an upcoming show I was hoping to go to in Leipzig as that I was a fan of Danzig. OK, but these things can happen.
I woke up Thursday morning to a news report about some problems involving the volcanic ash from Iceland. Now, I don't usually watch a lot of television at the best of times, but I realized very quickly that I'd likely not get back to Germany so easily; things looked to be quickly getting out of control. I monitored some websites throughout the day to learn that the airspace in the UK, Ireland, and then Germany were all closing up tight.
I sort of resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to miss the Bouncing Souls show in Leipzig the following evening, though part of me had already abandoned hope of getting to that show before I'd even boarded the airplane for Ireland. However, my intent was still to quietly endure another birthday (even a landmark one) rather quietly and with minimal fuss.
Friday morning, I knew everything was beyond control. I sort of dismissed things with a "Well, shit happens," but nevertheless felt a bit pessimistic (what!!?? really??!! Bryan, a pessimist??!!) and figured I'd be spending the weekend in Ireland.
Now, in one sense, that idea does sound kind of appealing: unplanned adventure, underwear reserve almost nil. On the other hand, I'd had a pretty exhausting week, was going to miss a show, and there were a few people I wanted to see back in Germany, nevermind the sort of alarming uncertainty that comes with the whole, "hmmm, not really sure when things are going to get sorted out" thought that was in my head.
I think it was this last bit that got to me. I'm extremely flexible with things that are beyond my control, but I'm also a bit cautious; I felt more inclined to lie low over the weekend rather than go off and spend a packet of money on a "holiday" touristy weekend, particularly since I wasn't so sure how long I'd actually be stuck.
I recently read a novel where an entire town got cut off from the rest of the world. Initially, everyone was excited at the novelty and sort of partied their way through things. Things unfortunately went downhill rather quickly to a point where only about 11 people survived the incident.
OK, kind of an extreme example, even without the crystal meth manufacturing plant and the wacko that set off a bomb, but I couldn't help but get an eerie feeling, despite the dissimilarity of the two events.
So, instead of simply throwing caution into the wind, I quietly went and bought some clean underwear, socks, and a crime novel, watched a bit of football (thanks, Arsenal for the last 10 minutes of that disastrous game), enjoyed some quiet time and really just caught up on some needed sleep.
Once, over the weekend, I overheard some travellers loudly complaining about the fact that they were stuck and couldn't get home to the states.
I kept relatively quiet through it all, thinking more about those folks who really were stranded, short of cash, perhaps with medical emergencies, or whatever. Sure, my situation isn't particularly the greatest, and I may have to get graphic when convincing my boss to sign my expense report where I paid 20 Euro to clean five pairs of socks and boxers, but things could certainly be worse, you know? After all, I'm in a decent hotel, around mostly pleasant guests and locals, the weather is nice, and I've just enjoyed the quiet experience.
The interaction I've had with the Irish (regardless of where they come from) has been quite the highlight. I had to explain sheepishly that I needed a plug converter so I could power my laptop and charge my handy, and yesterday evening, I had the pleasure of attempting to assist a couple in their late 70s with a tire that was running low on air. The woman was most appreciative and apologetic of my efforts (once she discovered that I spoke English; gosh have I been gone that long?) even though I managed to further deflate her tire as we discovered that the air compressor wasn't working. However, I scored points and was thanked as a gentleman as I gave the woman directions to the next petrol station a couple of minutes down the road.
Thanks to all for the SMS, the skypes, the emails, and the phone calls, regardless of the hour from the past few days, and thanks especially for those of you who put me in my place for lack of adventure and creativity.
Sure, I may start a bit slow, but save for open goals where I tend to send the ball shooting over the bar into row H, I do have a bit of a touch. Make no mistake, I do finish strong.
keep the faith.
bryan
The supplier I was to visit was only minutes from the airport. I was a bit anxious about the whole visit, as I'm sort of the "available" resource that got thrown into things. True, I'm probably the right person for the task, but I did have the initial feeling I was in a bit over my head.
The cab driver delivered me to the wrong location initially, which was both comical and frustrating, but my counterpart came and collected me within a couple of minutes, and I realized we'd be OK as soon as I heard some Bruce Springsteen blaring from his car stereo.
Fifteen minutes later I'd met about 10 minutes people, all with Irish names, and I was a bit overwhelmed. But, I was finding my stride pretty quickly and was eager to get on with things. The contact center is an important element to our operation, and the last time we tried this (see the blogs from early 2007) we (my company and I) did a pretty fair job of cocking things up. Though the decision to move the call center into Ireland from Scotland wasn't mine, I was determined to make sure we didn't make the same mistake a second time.
We had some productive meetings during the course of the afternoon, and I was exhausted at the end of the day when I got to my hotel nearby the offices. At check in, I didn't pay much attention when the lady tried to draw me a map from reception to my room, and I regretted it ten minutes later while I was wandering up and down the longest corridors I've ever seen in search of room 287.
At last I found my room, and quickly unpacked my things, ready for a bit of dinner and a pint or two. I still got lost on the way back to the hotel bar, but figured that in a day or two, I'd have the layout pretty well under control.
Because the call center is multilingual, it was interesting to hear everyone speak. Besides the natives, all the expats, including the German and the Spanish, also spoke with Irish accents. I actually wasn't that surprised by this, as I'd encountered the same thing while in Edinburgh. However, it is particularly noticable when you're around a lot of people who have to talk for a living.
I found a similar thing at the hotel pub; the Indian barman, who has been in Ireland for easily five years, was sounding pretty authentic. However, I smiled more than once as I listened to him say, "Howyeah?" (typical Northside Dub) because it came out, "How are you?" about as crisp as you like.
My colleagues took me out for dinner Wednesday night, and we got to know one another a bit better. We strengthened our relationship a bit further the following evening when my counterpart and I discussed the quality of Nick Cave, Tom Waits, and the Gaslight Anthem over a beer. The guy is quite into music, though he misunderstood my earlier remark about an upcoming show I was hoping to go to in Leipzig as that I was a fan of Danzig. OK, but these things can happen.
I woke up Thursday morning to a news report about some problems involving the volcanic ash from Iceland. Now, I don't usually watch a lot of television at the best of times, but I realized very quickly that I'd likely not get back to Germany so easily; things looked to be quickly getting out of control. I monitored some websites throughout the day to learn that the airspace in the UK, Ireland, and then Germany were all closing up tight.
I sort of resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to miss the Bouncing Souls show in Leipzig the following evening, though part of me had already abandoned hope of getting to that show before I'd even boarded the airplane for Ireland. However, my intent was still to quietly endure another birthday (even a landmark one) rather quietly and with minimal fuss.
Friday morning, I knew everything was beyond control. I sort of dismissed things with a "Well, shit happens," but nevertheless felt a bit pessimistic (what!!?? really??!! Bryan, a pessimist??!!) and figured I'd be spending the weekend in Ireland.
Now, in one sense, that idea does sound kind of appealing: unplanned adventure, underwear reserve almost nil. On the other hand, I'd had a pretty exhausting week, was going to miss a show, and there were a few people I wanted to see back in Germany, nevermind the sort of alarming uncertainty that comes with the whole, "hmmm, not really sure when things are going to get sorted out" thought that was in my head.
I think it was this last bit that got to me. I'm extremely flexible with things that are beyond my control, but I'm also a bit cautious; I felt more inclined to lie low over the weekend rather than go off and spend a packet of money on a "holiday" touristy weekend, particularly since I wasn't so sure how long I'd actually be stuck.
I recently read a novel where an entire town got cut off from the rest of the world. Initially, everyone was excited at the novelty and sort of partied their way through things. Things unfortunately went downhill rather quickly to a point where only about 11 people survived the incident.
OK, kind of an extreme example, even without the crystal meth manufacturing plant and the wacko that set off a bomb, but I couldn't help but get an eerie feeling, despite the dissimilarity of the two events.
So, instead of simply throwing caution into the wind, I quietly went and bought some clean underwear, socks, and a crime novel, watched a bit of football (thanks, Arsenal for the last 10 minutes of that disastrous game), enjoyed some quiet time and really just caught up on some needed sleep.
Once, over the weekend, I overheard some travellers loudly complaining about the fact that they were stuck and couldn't get home to the states.
I kept relatively quiet through it all, thinking more about those folks who really were stranded, short of cash, perhaps with medical emergencies, or whatever. Sure, my situation isn't particularly the greatest, and I may have to get graphic when convincing my boss to sign my expense report where I paid 20 Euro to clean five pairs of socks and boxers, but things could certainly be worse, you know? After all, I'm in a decent hotel, around mostly pleasant guests and locals, the weather is nice, and I've just enjoyed the quiet experience.
The interaction I've had with the Irish (regardless of where they come from) has been quite the highlight. I had to explain sheepishly that I needed a plug converter so I could power my laptop and charge my handy, and yesterday evening, I had the pleasure of attempting to assist a couple in their late 70s with a tire that was running low on air. The woman was most appreciative and apologetic of my efforts (once she discovered that I spoke English; gosh have I been gone that long?) even though I managed to further deflate her tire as we discovered that the air compressor wasn't working. However, I scored points and was thanked as a gentleman as I gave the woman directions to the next petrol station a couple of minutes down the road.
Thanks to all for the SMS, the skypes, the emails, and the phone calls, regardless of the hour from the past few days, and thanks especially for those of you who put me in my place for lack of adventure and creativity.
Sure, I may start a bit slow, but save for open goals where I tend to send the ball shooting over the bar into row H, I do have a bit of a touch. Make no mistake, I do finish strong.
keep the faith.
bryan
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Coming Attractions...the Short Update
I've been making notes of things to write about over the past couple of weeks, and just keep running out of time to sit down and put up a post.
However, for a brief glimpse of what will be coming soon (and also to remind me of what I have to write about)...
- can a midlife crisis can be abated simply by kicking a hacky sack? well, it certainly helps.
- are Belgian pillows really that much more comfortable, or is it just that I got an sms from the states in the middle of the night that startled me out of sleep? (thanks, Chris, hope the Monk was fun that night).
- Messi really is faster than everyone on the Arsenal football squad.
- do I speak Spanish with a German accent, or is that just one author's opinion?
- why do I struggle so much with German prepositions?
I'm off to Ireland for the week to do a bit of work...
see you out there.
bryan
soundtrack -
Rise - Public Image, Ltd. (thanks Pablo)
However, for a brief glimpse of what will be coming soon (and also to remind me of what I have to write about)...
- can a midlife crisis can be abated simply by kicking a hacky sack? well, it certainly helps.
- are Belgian pillows really that much more comfortable, or is it just that I got an sms from the states in the middle of the night that startled me out of sleep? (thanks, Chris, hope the Monk was fun that night).
- Messi really is faster than everyone on the Arsenal football squad.
- do I speak Spanish with a German accent, or is that just one author's opinion?
- why do I struggle so much with German prepositions?
I'm off to Ireland for the week to do a bit of work...
see you out there.
bryan
soundtrack -
Rise - Public Image, Ltd. (thanks Pablo)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Parental Approval Rating - High!
"How was the visit to the dentist?" was the text message I received Friday afternoon from my mom.
"Cancelled. The dentist is in hospital," I sent back.
"That's too bad. We're going to a piano concert of Chopin tonight. Bye." came the response.
My folks were toodling around in Poland for the past week, and sending regular updates from their mobiles about what they were doing and seeing. I realized how good of a time they're having simply from mom's response; she's been on me to visit the dentist for almost 18 months, which basically means that everytime we've skyped, the question has come up.
I was actually looking forward to going to the dentist, myself, since it has been a bit since my last checkup, and I was slightly surprised that los padres sort of dismissed the cancelled appointment. Had they not been on holiday, they perhaps would have pressed for more details, particularly when the appointment would be rescheduled. Of course, let's see if the lady gets out of the hospital first, and then we'll sort out the termin.
Indeed, my folks are on a 6 week holiday in Europe. They arrived in Frankfurt a couple of weeks ago, and we had a great time just hanging out and catching up. I wisely took some days off during their visit, thus we had more time to just kind of relax. I was particularly glad to see them (Bryan needs a little mom and pop time every so often), and didn't even mind that my dad kept insisting on paying the bill whenever we went out to dinner, though I did feel a bit like a little kid, however one that had to do most of the communication in German.
As always, the entertainment value was super high. My parents are great people, but they never fail to crack me up. I've long been known as a primary source of comic relief in our family, anyway, but this time round was seemingly more special. Perhaps it was the new material that came my way...
Upon their arrival, the explained that they'd had a bit of a struggle at the airport during check-in. The guy at the desk made them check their "carry on" bags, because my dad had asked if the bags were light enough. Of course that meant that they were then instructed to put the luggage on the scale, and when they were found to be over the limit, they had to check them.
My father was particularly irked because most of the other passengers carried on their bags that were much larger (and likely heavier than either of my parents'). Before my father could claim that he'd been made a victim, I pointed out that the other passengers probably hadn't asked if their luggage was too heavy to be carried onto the plane.
My father was also most distressed to find that my doorbell doesn't have my name listed on it, and struggled to understand how it could be identified.
"Dad, there are 8 buzzers, and all of them have names on them save one. I think it's pretty clear, eh? And, I don't have to ring my doorbell when I come home, I use my key!"
It's not as if they're the only easy targets, of course. I had invited my folks to bring some laundry over to take advantage of my facilities, and we spent a morning running a load or two. I had hung everything up to dry, and then was standing on the landing of the stairwell just outside my apartment discussing our dinner plans for later that evening, when a little gust of wind blew through my open balcony door and slammed my front door shut.
"Oh fuck," I said, then immediately clapped my hand to my mouth, astonished that I'd just uttered that explicative. However, what was taking a few moments to sink in for my parents was already clear in my mind. My key was on the inside of the door, which locks automatically. My mobile telephone was inside the house, as was my wallet, etc.
I had an appointment across town in about 25 minutes, and had only been walking my parents to the door before leaving myself. Suddenly, I had a bit of a crisis. Nadja has my spare keys, and she was at work. I would have called her, had her telephone number not been loaded in the memory on my mobile phone which was now locked in my house.
For a few moments, I was unsure of what to do. My dad and mom were a bit helpless, though my dad was ready to take action. (it's not as if this is the first time i've locked myself out...just the first time in Germany). I ran downstairs to see if anyone was in the pub, namely the owner, and sort of yelled to my mother that under no circumstances should she leave the apartment building, otherwise we would all be totally locked out.
Fortunately, the owner of the pub was in his garage. I sort of startled him as I ran in and said, "hi, I need to borrow your extension ladder if you've got one!" Thank goodness he did, and I lugged it back over to my backyard and leaned it up against the balcony, only to find it a bit too short.
My father assessed things for a minute, and decided that I could probably climb as high as I could, then sort of "swing" myself onto the balcony, which was about 1 meter beneath the bottom of the balcony.
"Er, I don't think so."
Back across to the pub, got the extra extension, and, with quite a bit of dad help, we got the ladder long enough to safely reach my balcony. My dad held the ladder firmly, while I climbed carefully up. It was rather a windy day, and I wasn't real thrilled at the whole situation, but my mom was in the background constantly saying, "Sam hold that ladder! Bryan, be careful!"
So, I made it safely to the balcony, got back inside the flat, opened the front door and order was restored. I was even only 5 minutes late to my appointment. Crisis abated, though I knew my folks (father particularly) would have a bit of a laugh about the experience later.
I was very grateful for their help, actually, and we did enjoy several chuckles together later that night at dinner.
The time flew by, and it was suddenly the weekend. We all went to a birthday dinner at a local Spanish restaurant last Saturday night, and it was quite the perfect way to finish their visit. They enjoyed themselves greatly, chatting with various friends and acquaintances, ultimately staying out very late, despite the fact that they had to catch an early flight to Poland the following morning.
We said our goodbyes outside of the restaurant, they went off to the taxi stand, and I went back in to join the festivities, hoping that they'd actually wake up for their flight the next morning.
I got the text message the following afternoon: "We're very cozy in our hotel and watching the snow outside. Thanks for a lovely time. Love, Mom."
Rockin. I'm very fortunate to have nice parents.
keep the faith
bryan
...this warm fuzzy posting is brought to you by hubba bubba (hooba booba) gum, and the little smiley with tongue out emoticon. This weeks soundtrack is a basic mix of Flesh for Lulu, Jesus and Mary Chain, and a handful of industrial covers of songs by the Cure.
"Cancelled. The dentist is in hospital," I sent back.
"That's too bad. We're going to a piano concert of Chopin tonight. Bye." came the response.
My folks were toodling around in Poland for the past week, and sending regular updates from their mobiles about what they were doing and seeing. I realized how good of a time they're having simply from mom's response; she's been on me to visit the dentist for almost 18 months, which basically means that everytime we've skyped, the question has come up.
I was actually looking forward to going to the dentist, myself, since it has been a bit since my last checkup, and I was slightly surprised that los padres sort of dismissed the cancelled appointment. Had they not been on holiday, they perhaps would have pressed for more details, particularly when the appointment would be rescheduled. Of course, let's see if the lady gets out of the hospital first, and then we'll sort out the termin.
Indeed, my folks are on a 6 week holiday in Europe. They arrived in Frankfurt a couple of weeks ago, and we had a great time just hanging out and catching up. I wisely took some days off during their visit, thus we had more time to just kind of relax. I was particularly glad to see them (Bryan needs a little mom and pop time every so often), and didn't even mind that my dad kept insisting on paying the bill whenever we went out to dinner, though I did feel a bit like a little kid, however one that had to do most of the communication in German.
As always, the entertainment value was super high. My parents are great people, but they never fail to crack me up. I've long been known as a primary source of comic relief in our family, anyway, but this time round was seemingly more special. Perhaps it was the new material that came my way...
Upon their arrival, the explained that they'd had a bit of a struggle at the airport during check-in. The guy at the desk made them check their "carry on" bags, because my dad had asked if the bags were light enough. Of course that meant that they were then instructed to put the luggage on the scale, and when they were found to be over the limit, they had to check them.
My father was particularly irked because most of the other passengers carried on their bags that were much larger (and likely heavier than either of my parents'). Before my father could claim that he'd been made a victim, I pointed out that the other passengers probably hadn't asked if their luggage was too heavy to be carried onto the plane.
My father was also most distressed to find that my doorbell doesn't have my name listed on it, and struggled to understand how it could be identified.
"Dad, there are 8 buzzers, and all of them have names on them save one. I think it's pretty clear, eh? And, I don't have to ring my doorbell when I come home, I use my key!"
It's not as if they're the only easy targets, of course. I had invited my folks to bring some laundry over to take advantage of my facilities, and we spent a morning running a load or two. I had hung everything up to dry, and then was standing on the landing of the stairwell just outside my apartment discussing our dinner plans for later that evening, when a little gust of wind blew through my open balcony door and slammed my front door shut.
"Oh fuck," I said, then immediately clapped my hand to my mouth, astonished that I'd just uttered that explicative. However, what was taking a few moments to sink in for my parents was already clear in my mind. My key was on the inside of the door, which locks automatically. My mobile telephone was inside the house, as was my wallet, etc.
I had an appointment across town in about 25 minutes, and had only been walking my parents to the door before leaving myself. Suddenly, I had a bit of a crisis. Nadja has my spare keys, and she was at work. I would have called her, had her telephone number not been loaded in the memory on my mobile phone which was now locked in my house.
For a few moments, I was unsure of what to do. My dad and mom were a bit helpless, though my dad was ready to take action. (it's not as if this is the first time i've locked myself out...just the first time in Germany). I ran downstairs to see if anyone was in the pub, namely the owner, and sort of yelled to my mother that under no circumstances should she leave the apartment building, otherwise we would all be totally locked out.
Fortunately, the owner of the pub was in his garage. I sort of startled him as I ran in and said, "hi, I need to borrow your extension ladder if you've got one!" Thank goodness he did, and I lugged it back over to my backyard and leaned it up against the balcony, only to find it a bit too short.
My father assessed things for a minute, and decided that I could probably climb as high as I could, then sort of "swing" myself onto the balcony, which was about 1 meter beneath the bottom of the balcony.
"Er, I don't think so."
Back across to the pub, got the extra extension, and, with quite a bit of dad help, we got the ladder long enough to safely reach my balcony. My dad held the ladder firmly, while I climbed carefully up. It was rather a windy day, and I wasn't real thrilled at the whole situation, but my mom was in the background constantly saying, "Sam hold that ladder! Bryan, be careful!"
So, I made it safely to the balcony, got back inside the flat, opened the front door and order was restored. I was even only 5 minutes late to my appointment. Crisis abated, though I knew my folks (father particularly) would have a bit of a laugh about the experience later.
I was very grateful for their help, actually, and we did enjoy several chuckles together later that night at dinner.
The time flew by, and it was suddenly the weekend. We all went to a birthday dinner at a local Spanish restaurant last Saturday night, and it was quite the perfect way to finish their visit. They enjoyed themselves greatly, chatting with various friends and acquaintances, ultimately staying out very late, despite the fact that they had to catch an early flight to Poland the following morning.
We said our goodbyes outside of the restaurant, they went off to the taxi stand, and I went back in to join the festivities, hoping that they'd actually wake up for their flight the next morning.
I got the text message the following afternoon: "We're very cozy in our hotel and watching the snow outside. Thanks for a lovely time. Love, Mom."
Rockin. I'm very fortunate to have nice parents.
keep the faith
bryan
...this warm fuzzy posting is brought to you by hubba bubba (hooba booba) gum, and the little smiley with tongue out emoticon. This weeks soundtrack is a basic mix of Flesh for Lulu, Jesus and Mary Chain, and a handful of industrial covers of songs by the Cure.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Is it time for spring break yet?
Well, I was going to take a walk this afternoon, but a storm has blown in, and the wind is actually blowing gusts of 40 mph; kind of a good decision that I've elected to stay indoors, do a little laundry, and scribble.
It's been a bit of an interesting week on all fronts. Work was a little too quiet (of course, these things will happen when you start shifting your repair volumes out of your facility), and the reminder that things aren't so well positioned came forth with yet a few more announcements of people, "electing to pursue other interests outside the company."
I half jokingly told my boss that if he was going to send out an email similar to the other announcements he'd sent out during the week, this time with my name listed, that he'd better bloody tell me first. "No chance," he said. "You're going nowhere."
Oh goody.
Being the last man standing in a repair shop without anything to repair is not nearly as gratifying as being the last guy standing at, let's say a crawfish boil. However, perhaps I can take some comfort in the security that I'm bound to keep my job for quite some time, abeit the comfort may not be much better than trying to wrap yourself in saran wrap and thinking you're now wearing a raincoat.
Ironcially, no sooner had my boss made his comments, I found myself on two separate occasions coming in contact with someone who looked upon me as if I was the absolute last person on the planet that they wanted to see. Kind of a creepy feeling at the time, and mildly irritating. I mention it cos' I was sort of caught off guard; I hadn't done anything to offend or annoy. At any rate, pub crowds can be funny, sometimes, and I wrote the experience off as sheer coincidence that the two times I was even in the pub this week it happened.
It is entirely possible that it was my own false perception. I've just started reading a new book by Nick Hornby, and like always with his stuff, I tend to get a bit pensive. Combine that with exteremely heavy listening to the new Alkaline Trio album that came out this week, and maybe I just dreamed the whole thing. Who knows?
Indeed, it was all about the trio this week; I've been waiting on their new album for some time, and I was pretty pleased with the effort. My neighbor made a comment when we saw each other in the stairway yesterday, "Ah, so the loud music I keep hearing is coming from your flat!!"
Oh yes indeedy. I'm kind of partial to "the american scream," myself.
So, I've got a bit of ironing ahead of me this evening, and I must do a bit of flat cleaning over the next several days, as my parents arrive this coming Friday.
I'll get right on it as soon as I've tweaked the stereo volume up a notch...
keep the faith
bryan
It's been a bit of an interesting week on all fronts. Work was a little too quiet (of course, these things will happen when you start shifting your repair volumes out of your facility), and the reminder that things aren't so well positioned came forth with yet a few more announcements of people, "electing to pursue other interests outside the company."
I half jokingly told my boss that if he was going to send out an email similar to the other announcements he'd sent out during the week, this time with my name listed, that he'd better bloody tell me first. "No chance," he said. "You're going nowhere."
Oh goody.
Being the last man standing in a repair shop without anything to repair is not nearly as gratifying as being the last guy standing at, let's say a crawfish boil. However, perhaps I can take some comfort in the security that I'm bound to keep my job for quite some time, abeit the comfort may not be much better than trying to wrap yourself in saran wrap and thinking you're now wearing a raincoat.
Ironcially, no sooner had my boss made his comments, I found myself on two separate occasions coming in contact with someone who looked upon me as if I was the absolute last person on the planet that they wanted to see. Kind of a creepy feeling at the time, and mildly irritating. I mention it cos' I was sort of caught off guard; I hadn't done anything to offend or annoy. At any rate, pub crowds can be funny, sometimes, and I wrote the experience off as sheer coincidence that the two times I was even in the pub this week it happened.
It is entirely possible that it was my own false perception. I've just started reading a new book by Nick Hornby, and like always with his stuff, I tend to get a bit pensive. Combine that with exteremely heavy listening to the new Alkaline Trio album that came out this week, and maybe I just dreamed the whole thing. Who knows?
Indeed, it was all about the trio this week; I've been waiting on their new album for some time, and I was pretty pleased with the effort. My neighbor made a comment when we saw each other in the stairway yesterday, "Ah, so the loud music I keep hearing is coming from your flat!!"
Oh yes indeedy. I'm kind of partial to "the american scream," myself.
So, I've got a bit of ironing ahead of me this evening, and I must do a bit of flat cleaning over the next several days, as my parents arrive this coming Friday.
I'll get right on it as soon as I've tweaked the stereo volume up a notch...
keep the faith
bryan
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Starting Lent in Style
In a moment of madness this past week, I wore plaid pants to work. OK, I really like these pants, and despite that I first bought them when I was 17, they've held up remarkably well. At least that's my opinion, save for a bit of a rip in the right pocket that happened during a trip to Ireland once.
A few colleagues gave me some shit for the day's outfit, albeit more for the schoolboy sweater than for the pants (ooh! Bryan's gone preppy!). I thought I would be able to compensate later in the week (more normal attire for me is more jeans and boots), but had forgotten that a few of us had decided to suit up for Thursday evening, when we went off to a new location for a quiz night. (said events are relatively popular around here, and though I don't play so regularly, the fact that the quiz master said something to me like, "you'd better be there you little fucker," pretty much made it a no brainer).
So, Thursday morning, I arrived to work in suit and tie to greetings of, "ohmygosh, what has happened to you?" or "are there customers on site today?" and the like. Even the lady at the canteen spilled a little soup when she saw me cut through the kitchen on the way outside to walk around on the patio (equate that to powersmoke and chug cups of awful coffee; a typical ritual of mine, as I tend to be unable to sit still for very long, and prefer to pace about when speaking on the telephone. Thus, I'm outside frequently through the course of the day, depending on how much I allow myself to smoke, how much my office partner with the booming voice prevents me from having my own telephone conversation, or how cold it is outside).
Overall, the feedback on my attire was relatively positive ("gee, bryan, now you look like you're our chef (boss)"), and later that evening when all of us arrived at the little cafe for the quiz, we sort of brought an intimidation factor with us, which had an effect on the other quiz particpants. The day before, I had made the argument that at least by dressing up, we might feel a bit more intelligent. Typically when I have played the quiz, I have felt tremendously inadequate, especially since the folks I normally play with tend to know the answers to most of the questions. My contributions usually come from the music round or from the rare question about North American geography (you wouldn't believe how many Europeans believe there are either 49 or 52 states in the US).
Our intimidation helped, but not quite enough. We went into the last round in first place, then lost a couple of easy points because yours truly forgot who sang "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night" and wrote down a name so silly that I won't even repeat it here.
Thus, we came in 2nd place, which meant we won some gift certificates to the cafe, which we promptly used to pay our beer tab. All in all, not a bad little evening, though we may not do the suit thing again soon.
I was a bit tired yesterday morning, and hoped to call it an early day, but ended up working very late, which meant I was absolutely exhausted by the time I got home. Only time for a pizza, a movie, and a little ice cream before I simply fell into bed.
The challenges of work continue to both motivate and sadden me. Each week, we have to lay off a few more folks through contract termination or whatever, and that's not always easy to take. I don't have the history here that some of the other folks do, and, as in any unstable work environment, we'll continue to lose some of the talent as people simply find a better solution for themselves, which will make it all the more difficult in future to build (or rebuild) a team.
Meanwhile, on the positive front (choke), more stuff gets shovelled my way and if I'm not careful, I will get stretched pretty thin over the coming months. Prague is at the "let's flop about and lose control stage," which will mean I'll have to go back over there pretty quickly. And, someone decided we should relocate our call center, so I'm going to be involved in that transition, too, and that will probably mean a trip or two to Ireland. Sounds ok to me, but I've also got to race about and keep all the other balls in the air. However, my whole life is about instability, and I tend to work best in this type of situation, so there you have it.
Of course, that means the ipod is blaring all kinds of music right now, particularly as I need the constant psych up (pscyho?) element. Mission UK has been in heavy rotation this week, but there was a brief morning commute to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (which prompted the plaid pants wearing excursion in the first place).
So the soundtrack for the week will be "God's Own Medicine," straight through from start to finish.
keep the faith
bryan
(note to Moe - the fun thing I did for the week was a bit of a combo: instead of going to the New Model Army show at midweek (I should be a fan, but am not), I elected to see if Arsenal would find a new way to let me down in their Champs League match. I wasn't disappointed. There's just nothing quite like sitting there watching your team collapse in a comedy of errors...)
A few colleagues gave me some shit for the day's outfit, albeit more for the schoolboy sweater than for the pants (ooh! Bryan's gone preppy!). I thought I would be able to compensate later in the week (more normal attire for me is more jeans and boots), but had forgotten that a few of us had decided to suit up for Thursday evening, when we went off to a new location for a quiz night. (said events are relatively popular around here, and though I don't play so regularly, the fact that the quiz master said something to me like, "you'd better be there you little fucker," pretty much made it a no brainer).
So, Thursday morning, I arrived to work in suit and tie to greetings of, "ohmygosh, what has happened to you?" or "are there customers on site today?" and the like. Even the lady at the canteen spilled a little soup when she saw me cut through the kitchen on the way outside to walk around on the patio (equate that to powersmoke and chug cups of awful coffee; a typical ritual of mine, as I tend to be unable to sit still for very long, and prefer to pace about when speaking on the telephone. Thus, I'm outside frequently through the course of the day, depending on how much I allow myself to smoke, how much my office partner with the booming voice prevents me from having my own telephone conversation, or how cold it is outside).
Overall, the feedback on my attire was relatively positive ("gee, bryan, now you look like you're our chef (boss)"), and later that evening when all of us arrived at the little cafe for the quiz, we sort of brought an intimidation factor with us, which had an effect on the other quiz particpants. The day before, I had made the argument that at least by dressing up, we might feel a bit more intelligent. Typically when I have played the quiz, I have felt tremendously inadequate, especially since the folks I normally play with tend to know the answers to most of the questions. My contributions usually come from the music round or from the rare question about North American geography (you wouldn't believe how many Europeans believe there are either 49 or 52 states in the US).
Our intimidation helped, but not quite enough. We went into the last round in first place, then lost a couple of easy points because yours truly forgot who sang "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night" and wrote down a name so silly that I won't even repeat it here.
Thus, we came in 2nd place, which meant we won some gift certificates to the cafe, which we promptly used to pay our beer tab. All in all, not a bad little evening, though we may not do the suit thing again soon.
I was a bit tired yesterday morning, and hoped to call it an early day, but ended up working very late, which meant I was absolutely exhausted by the time I got home. Only time for a pizza, a movie, and a little ice cream before I simply fell into bed.
The challenges of work continue to both motivate and sadden me. Each week, we have to lay off a few more folks through contract termination or whatever, and that's not always easy to take. I don't have the history here that some of the other folks do, and, as in any unstable work environment, we'll continue to lose some of the talent as people simply find a better solution for themselves, which will make it all the more difficult in future to build (or rebuild) a team.
Meanwhile, on the positive front (choke), more stuff gets shovelled my way and if I'm not careful, I will get stretched pretty thin over the coming months. Prague is at the "let's flop about and lose control stage," which will mean I'll have to go back over there pretty quickly. And, someone decided we should relocate our call center, so I'm going to be involved in that transition, too, and that will probably mean a trip or two to Ireland. Sounds ok to me, but I've also got to race about and keep all the other balls in the air. However, my whole life is about instability, and I tend to work best in this type of situation, so there you have it.
Of course, that means the ipod is blaring all kinds of music right now, particularly as I need the constant psych up (pscyho?) element. Mission UK has been in heavy rotation this week, but there was a brief morning commute to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (which prompted the plaid pants wearing excursion in the first place).
So the soundtrack for the week will be "God's Own Medicine," straight through from start to finish.
keep the faith
bryan
(note to Moe - the fun thing I did for the week was a bit of a combo: instead of going to the New Model Army show at midweek (I should be a fan, but am not), I elected to see if Arsenal would find a new way to let me down in their Champs League match. I wasn't disappointed. There's just nothing quite like sitting there watching your team collapse in a comedy of errors...)
Saturday, February 13, 2010
yawn, just killing time
Well, it's been an interesting week of firsts.
I managed to finally tick the box and visited the Staedel Museum. There has been a Botticelli exhibit on display for the past few months, and I managed to squeeze in the trip before it ends next week. I'm not really one of those guys that is frequently walking around art galleries, but I do enjoy the experience when it comes up, and I certainly was not disappointed, despite the 45 minutes of queuing outside in the cold.
That was a rather decent way to start the week, and the culture mix continued when I went to a little poetry reading/interpretation at a library in the city on Wednesday evening. A South African author who writes very angry poetry gave a bit of a talk, and rapped from several of the books he's written over the past 17 years or so. He's a little older than I am, and I appreciated his bitter sarcasm. I'm probably not going to run out and buy his works, but it was pretty interesting seeing and hearing his take on the happenings in his country over the past 25 years.
What I found even more interesting was the way the mediator would translate his comments into German for the audience. I got the feeling most everyone there had a relatively good grasp of English (which this guy spoke and read in), but the author's candor was pretty aggressive. He spoke very graphically, and I smiled more than once at some times that Whit and I used to make some very similar references and expressions when we were much younger. Of course, I'll in know way suggest that Whit or I was on the same level as this guy. How can you compare "turning someone over and eating them like an ice cream cone," to the rage this guy expressed about the plight of the people of his country.
At any rate, the question and answer session at the end of the talk was also quite enjoyable. More than once, the dialog went astray, due in part to language barrier, but due more to the fact that this guy had a tendency to be a smart ass whenever the opportunity presented itself.
But, it was quite the way to spend an evening.
Earlier in the week, I'd decided to take the day off on Friday. I've worked half this year in Prague, and needed a day to sort of get things in order around the house. Had I remembered to turn my alarm clock off, perhaps I wouldn't have woken up so early Friday morning, as I'd been out a little late the night before. Fortunately, I did manage to turn over and go back to sleep for a couple of hours, thus having a bit of a lie in. However, I woke up and realized that I'd not turned my "out of office assistant" on, which meant that a fair amount of emails were in need of response.
I made myself a coffee, then took care of the work. (priorities first, you know)
Then, a few hours later, I was trying to convince myself to go to the gym, when an opportunity to go shopping presented itself, and about 30 minutes later, I set foot in an Ikea for the very first time. I held out as long as I could, I must say, and overall, I can understand why the place is constantly full of people stocking up on things that I'm sure they justify are really needed for their household. Since my flat is already kitted, it's not as if I need to visit Ikea on a regular basis, but I noted that there are some cool things on offer. I did buy a bit of bed linen, so you might say that at least I took away a souvineer.
So, I'd do (and will do) all three things again, when the chances arise. Personally, I'd bet I'm more likely to be in the museum or the library again before hanging out in the picture frame department of a furniture warehouse, but you've got to do it sometimes, eh?
I'll leave it at that for today; perhaps one of the most boring posts I've put up in a long time.
next week - more details on what happens when some idiot technician uses a customer's laptop to surf the internet and pull down as much gansta rap as possible while chatting online at flirt.com during the repair process - tentative title will be something along the lines of, "why diplomacy helps a fuckload in the job of a program manager."
keep the faith
bryan
I managed to finally tick the box and visited the Staedel Museum. There has been a Botticelli exhibit on display for the past few months, and I managed to squeeze in the trip before it ends next week. I'm not really one of those guys that is frequently walking around art galleries, but I do enjoy the experience when it comes up, and I certainly was not disappointed, despite the 45 minutes of queuing outside in the cold.
That was a rather decent way to start the week, and the culture mix continued when I went to a little poetry reading/interpretation at a library in the city on Wednesday evening. A South African author who writes very angry poetry gave a bit of a talk, and rapped from several of the books he's written over the past 17 years or so. He's a little older than I am, and I appreciated his bitter sarcasm. I'm probably not going to run out and buy his works, but it was pretty interesting seeing and hearing his take on the happenings in his country over the past 25 years.
What I found even more interesting was the way the mediator would translate his comments into German for the audience. I got the feeling most everyone there had a relatively good grasp of English (which this guy spoke and read in), but the author's candor was pretty aggressive. He spoke very graphically, and I smiled more than once at some times that Whit and I used to make some very similar references and expressions when we were much younger. Of course, I'll in know way suggest that Whit or I was on the same level as this guy. How can you compare "turning someone over and eating them like an ice cream cone," to the rage this guy expressed about the plight of the people of his country.
At any rate, the question and answer session at the end of the talk was also quite enjoyable. More than once, the dialog went astray, due in part to language barrier, but due more to the fact that this guy had a tendency to be a smart ass whenever the opportunity presented itself.
But, it was quite the way to spend an evening.
Earlier in the week, I'd decided to take the day off on Friday. I've worked half this year in Prague, and needed a day to sort of get things in order around the house. Had I remembered to turn my alarm clock off, perhaps I wouldn't have woken up so early Friday morning, as I'd been out a little late the night before. Fortunately, I did manage to turn over and go back to sleep for a couple of hours, thus having a bit of a lie in. However, I woke up and realized that I'd not turned my "out of office assistant" on, which meant that a fair amount of emails were in need of response.
I made myself a coffee, then took care of the work. (priorities first, you know)
Then, a few hours later, I was trying to convince myself to go to the gym, when an opportunity to go shopping presented itself, and about 30 minutes later, I set foot in an Ikea for the very first time. I held out as long as I could, I must say, and overall, I can understand why the place is constantly full of people stocking up on things that I'm sure they justify are really needed for their household. Since my flat is already kitted, it's not as if I need to visit Ikea on a regular basis, but I noted that there are some cool things on offer. I did buy a bit of bed linen, so you might say that at least I took away a souvineer.
So, I'd do (and will do) all three things again, when the chances arise. Personally, I'd bet I'm more likely to be in the museum or the library again before hanging out in the picture frame department of a furniture warehouse, but you've got to do it sometimes, eh?
I'll leave it at that for today; perhaps one of the most boring posts I've put up in a long time.
next week - more details on what happens when some idiot technician uses a customer's laptop to surf the internet and pull down as much gansta rap as possible while chatting online at flirt.com during the repair process - tentative title will be something along the lines of, "why diplomacy helps a fuckload in the job of a program manager."
keep the faith
bryan
Saturday, January 30, 2010
It helps to be on the bleeding edge, sometimes...
I won't say that I've been blocked from writing over the past couple of months, but putting up a little post here, that's another thing. Fortunately, and great thanks to Pablo for the inspiration and a wonderful one way Sykpe conversation in the middle of the night, I'm getting myself back into gear.
The notebook I always carry (for those moments on the train or in the pub when I feel compelled to put pen to paper) is filled with an incomplete write up of my brief visit to Spain for the holidays and a story I started writing last September for a friend of mine.
I marked my 10th year on the trot doing the Spanish Christmas thing, and as I said years ago in one of the initial write ups, if my sister lived somewhere else, I'd be visiting her and her family there; it's just particularly cool for me that she doesn't live somewhere else.
Here's the very very brief version of the write up: some projectile vomiting which wasn't a particularly pleasant way to begin the trip, a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, celebration that my irish local in valencia has finally got their kitchen reopened (after a 3 year hiatus), lovely visits with my old friends and colleagues from around the city (special thanks to Steph and Jose Miguel), joy that my efforts to maintain a decent level of ability in the language haven't been in vain, several hours helping my sister work on her masters course, several more hours building and rebuilding various things with legos, a bit of cash spent on updating the wardrobe (though still focused heavily on black, white, and shades of gray), some groovy moments tickling the ivories, nice coffees, pensive walks by myself around the city, moments of reflection on the terrace, and a really lengthy layover in Barajas on the return leg.
A nice trip, and would have been absolutely brilliant had the vomiting not happened. Actually, it was more the aftermath that was unpleasant. It seems that everytime I'm physically ill, every blood vessel around my eyes explodes, thus making me appear more frightening than usual. Unfortunately, I failed to notice this until I got to the check in desk at Iberia, when the woman almost fainted when she saw me, then regained her composure and gave me my boarding card.
It took most of the flight before I started feeling better, so was more or less able to laugh off the "holy shit what happened to you?" comments that came my way over the next couple of days. (said experience typically only lasts 2 long days).
So much for pub send offs the night before beginning Christmas break...
The new year started quietly for me, just the way I prefer it, but it has taken off considerably.
I spent half of January in Prague, helping support the transition of our program. While it's a bit sad to regularly see colleagues from my own site released, I'm still motivated by the new challenges.
It's a bit of a fresh start, I must say. Taking several walks around some cool cities over the past weeks has helped bring me some much needed clarity, though I'm not urging everyone to walk the streets of Valencia, Prague or Frankfurt in sub zero temperatures in order to figure themselves out. But it worked for me, for both the personal and professional elements of my life.
A couple of Saturdays ago I sat in a cozy pub collecting my thoughts (walking around outside in the snow requires such a thing), and was suprised and touched when one of the staff came up to me, saying that she had remembered me from my previous visit to Prague two years before. It's sometimes nice to be thought of, or remembered; strange that it happened in one of the busiest pubs in the city where there aren't that many patrons that I would call regulars.
So, comforted by the warmth of the pub and the friendly greeting, I found myself finishing a story that I started last September. I'd worked on it regularly until late November, with little "interludes" mixed in periodically, depending on which way the emotions were blowing at the time. In the end, I discovered that it was more of a journal piece, and one best left in the journal. On the one side, it was good to reach an end; new realization set in, which helped me close the chapter. On the other side, there's always that bit of regret, maybe even remorse, that I find when I come to the end of a difficult chapter.
However, after a reread, I understood that the story had more to do with me, and thank goodness that it will remain only in my journal. As I put the cap back on my pen, I thought to myself how fortunate I am that no one can read my handwriting. (note - that's one of the advantages to writing while drinking a few beers)
Thus, chapter completed, on with the next one. Hey ho, let's go.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
The Alarm - Knife Edge
Bouncing Souls - A Life Less Ordinary
The notebook I always carry (for those moments on the train or in the pub when I feel compelled to put pen to paper) is filled with an incomplete write up of my brief visit to Spain for the holidays and a story I started writing last September for a friend of mine.
I marked my 10th year on the trot doing the Spanish Christmas thing, and as I said years ago in one of the initial write ups, if my sister lived somewhere else, I'd be visiting her and her family there; it's just particularly cool for me that she doesn't live somewhere else.
Here's the very very brief version of the write up: some projectile vomiting which wasn't a particularly pleasant way to begin the trip, a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, celebration that my irish local in valencia has finally got their kitchen reopened (after a 3 year hiatus), lovely visits with my old friends and colleagues from around the city (special thanks to Steph and Jose Miguel), joy that my efforts to maintain a decent level of ability in the language haven't been in vain, several hours helping my sister work on her masters course, several more hours building and rebuilding various things with legos, a bit of cash spent on updating the wardrobe (though still focused heavily on black, white, and shades of gray), some groovy moments tickling the ivories, nice coffees, pensive walks by myself around the city, moments of reflection on the terrace, and a really lengthy layover in Barajas on the return leg.
A nice trip, and would have been absolutely brilliant had the vomiting not happened. Actually, it was more the aftermath that was unpleasant. It seems that everytime I'm physically ill, every blood vessel around my eyes explodes, thus making me appear more frightening than usual. Unfortunately, I failed to notice this until I got to the check in desk at Iberia, when the woman almost fainted when she saw me, then regained her composure and gave me my boarding card.
It took most of the flight before I started feeling better, so was more or less able to laugh off the "holy shit what happened to you?" comments that came my way over the next couple of days. (said experience typically only lasts 2 long days).
So much for pub send offs the night before beginning Christmas break...
The new year started quietly for me, just the way I prefer it, but it has taken off considerably.
I spent half of January in Prague, helping support the transition of our program. While it's a bit sad to regularly see colleagues from my own site released, I'm still motivated by the new challenges.
It's a bit of a fresh start, I must say. Taking several walks around some cool cities over the past weeks has helped bring me some much needed clarity, though I'm not urging everyone to walk the streets of Valencia, Prague or Frankfurt in sub zero temperatures in order to figure themselves out. But it worked for me, for both the personal and professional elements of my life.
A couple of Saturdays ago I sat in a cozy pub collecting my thoughts (walking around outside in the snow requires such a thing), and was suprised and touched when one of the staff came up to me, saying that she had remembered me from my previous visit to Prague two years before. It's sometimes nice to be thought of, or remembered; strange that it happened in one of the busiest pubs in the city where there aren't that many patrons that I would call regulars.
So, comforted by the warmth of the pub and the friendly greeting, I found myself finishing a story that I started last September. I'd worked on it regularly until late November, with little "interludes" mixed in periodically, depending on which way the emotions were blowing at the time. In the end, I discovered that it was more of a journal piece, and one best left in the journal. On the one side, it was good to reach an end; new realization set in, which helped me close the chapter. On the other side, there's always that bit of regret, maybe even remorse, that I find when I come to the end of a difficult chapter.
However, after a reread, I understood that the story had more to do with me, and thank goodness that it will remain only in my journal. As I put the cap back on my pen, I thought to myself how fortunate I am that no one can read my handwriting. (note - that's one of the advantages to writing while drinking a few beers)
Thus, chapter completed, on with the next one. Hey ho, let's go.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
The Alarm - Knife Edge
Bouncing Souls - A Life Less Ordinary
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Has It Been Three Years Already?
Last Thursday marked my third anniversary in Germany. In all the excitement, I actually forgot about this milestone, but I'll come back to that in a minute. First, let me catch you up on the fun filled adventures of the recent weeks.
Our company does an annual physical inventory at the end of November. However, because we've had so much turnover in the past few years, not everyone in the management team was as clued in as they should be. Around the second week of November during our weekly management meeting, when we went around the table to allow each person to give their update or comment, I asked the question, "Just when are we going to do this inventory?"
I was particularly curious, as the general manager, the finance manager, and the materials manager (namely, the three guys who should have this task firmly marked on their calendar) had sort of skipped over the topic as if it wasn't going to be done. My personal interest was twofold: one, I tend to have to run my program's PI personally, and second, we were about to have to make a pretty significant announcement to the workers, one that wouldn't be particularly positive. When you're planning a physical inventory, you need alert people who are prepared to make quality counts of the materials. You certainly don't want them distracted and not focusing on the task at hand.
However, in this same period, people were beginning to talk about the need for me to travel to Prague for a couple of weeks, and I needed to see how we could slot everything in. Doing a physical inventory over a couple of days, then doing month end close, then whisking away to Prague for a fortnight struck me as being a bit busy.
At any rate, as usual, we elected to perform the inventory on the 27th of November, which meant at the close of business on Thankgiving Thursday, our repair lines ceased production. I then jumped into gear, making all the normal preparations for the following day's physical inventory count. This required me to back up the system, run a couple of reports, then print out the count sheets that would be used the following morning.
The printing function was particularly fun this year. I've got the system set in a way so that each stock location gets its own separate sheet. This makes it much easier for the individual to count (as there are few lines on the page), but the drawback is that this does kill a tree. I kicked out about 2000 sheets of paper.
However, this year I used our superduper printer, which I had purchased earlier in the year for printing out the repair letter we send out with each repaired notebook. (Dear Mr Customer (in whichever language you want), We are sorry your laptop was broken, but we're glad to have been able to fix it for you...blah blah blah). Thus, instead of the 2 1/2 hour nightmare I experienced last year with multiple paper jams and delays, I got this task completed in about 20 minutes. In fact, the printer was going so fast that I started to become uneasy, thinking of a few Stephen King short stories I've read where normal office products come to life and start eating people. Thankfully, this didn't happen, though the security guard was momentarily panicked as he walked by the frantic printer as it shot out 100s of sheets per minute.
So, as most of America was sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner, I was lugging half a tree upstairs to the "command central," where the inventory would be managed. For control purposes, each sheet has to be hand stamped. Why our company uses only two stamps is beyond me, but I was more interested in getting my sheets stamped so I could go home.
One gets a better idea of what it's like to work in a post office when you start stamping so many sheets of paper. I worked with a colleague and together we found a system where we could zip through this process pretty quickly. Of course, once or twice I accidentally stamped his hand, but hey ho, casualties are bound to happen.
In about an hour, we got my program's sheets completed and logged with the finance manager. I excused myself for the evening, as it was already about 9.30pm, and I wanted to go home. We would begin about 7.30 the following morning.
Pleased with the efficiency up to this point, I prepared myself mentally for the following day by having a few pints in the pub before going to bed at 1.
At 5am, I was awake, trying to force a liter of espresso down me, then took the train back to work. I tend to be pretty psyched up about inventory day, because there's a lot at stake, and it has to be done right. Otherwise, the auditors might find something out of order, and request a recount. My goal: to complete an accurate inventory during the course of the day as quickly as possible.
Because I have to run the PI by myself (for my program), I am sort of left alone by the rest of my colleagues, who have to toil laborously with the other programs. The systems are more complicated, there's more confusion, and I'm always glad to keep my distance from it, despite the personal stress I endure while getting the team through the task.
At 8am, the whistle blew, and we began counting. I ran about like a little kid making sure everyone knew what they were doing, and had a few moments of frustration with one of the guys in the warehouse (who has dealt with materials all his life) who seemed to be confused about what we doing. I struggled to control my patience with him because he seems to forget how to do something almost as soon as he learns it. (Anyone who has seen the movie Young Guns can think of the line, "He ain't all there, is he?") The fact that he's the warehouse lead exasperates me, as typically, I should not expect him to have to ask me where a particular stock location is, particularly since HE is the one who set up the locations in the first place. I delegated the task of counting screws to him, went outside for a handful of ciggy, then headed upstairs to begin keying in the inventory sheets. (basically, for those who haven't done this before, you count up every physical piece of material you have, type it all into the system, then compare it to what your inventory report says you're supposed to have. When they match, you're done. It's as simple as that).
With the help of one colleague, I keyed in the count sheets as they were completed, and by just after lunch, we were ready to reconcile, and recount anything if necessary. The 15 or so people sitting in the next room waiting to do the same thing for the other programs in the facility were just getting started.
Uwe and I noticed that we were about 2 hours ahead of schedule, based on last year's inventory. That didn't mean we were deliberately rushing, but we did like the fact that each year we had improved upon the year previous.
Our counts were really good, and I wasn't suprised to find that we had very little to reconcile. In the end, we were about .8% positive, meaning a very minor difference between the system and reality. I think even Chris would say, "that's pretty damn good."
My finance manager, the ops and materials managers agreed, and we booked it. I dismissed the team around 3pm, and within the hour, I called it a day myself. We had accomplished exactly what I wanted us to.
Because things looked so good, I told my team that I would personally handle the audit that would take place with the accounting firm on Saturday morning. If they found any discrepancy, I would sort it out myself.
To celebrate, I went home and watched Love Actually and ate a pint of ice cream. It's not such a bad way to spend a Friday night, and my evening got better as I skyped with Lynne for a couple of hours. Although I was very tired, I rallied around midnight, and went off to the pub for a quick beer, which turned into a three hour session when I ran into a few people I hadn't seen in awhile who were in full swing celebration, also.
OK, Saturday morning was a little fuzzy, but with another couple of espressos, I was able to hop a train back to work and meet the accounting auditors at 9.30. Some of the counting teams still had more to do, and all of the data input people were frantically entering data, so I got to be the first part of the audit. Everything checked out, and 45 minutes later, I was dismissed. My bit was done.
Back I went to Frankfurt, did the shopping, hit the gym, and felt pretty good about things. I chatted with my parents and grandparents to catch up on their Thanksgiving festivities, then slid into the pub later for just a couple. I ran into Nev, who was drunkenly expressing his joy and celebration of marking his fourth year in Germany. He's one of those ex-Pats that I do like to see regularly, particularly since he simply finds a reason to enjoy anything and everything, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant it might be. Sure, his enthusiasm was fuelled with a couple of days worth of pints, but apart from that, I was touched by how appreciative he was of his experience.
The next day, I ran into him again, as I was watching Arsenal get mauled by Chelsea. As a Newcastle fan, he was not so interested in the outcome, though he was leaning in favor or the Arse. Unfortunately, his indifference didn't come at a good time for me, especially since he was still on his positive high of the celebrations of his fourth year (he basically repeated everything he had said to me the night previous). That said, I enjoyed his company and comfort as the final whistle blew on Arsenal's horrific performance.
I returned to work on Monday morning with a bit of anxious anticipation. True, the inventory was behind us, but I knew the week would be a bit tough. It was time to inform my team, and the other workers within the repair site that we were about to relocate my repair program. Fortunately, this task didn't rest on my shoulders, but instead the general manager of the site. Though this announcement would come later in the week, I was already a bit anxious about the reaction.
I'm sure in the weeks and months ahead I'll have many more stories about my personal thoughts about this iminent change, but right now, the events are still fresh and I need to time to let them become more humorous than they actually are. Fact is, management decided earlier in the year that our company could perform the European repairs for my customer more cheaply in our Prague facility. This came as no surprise to me, but the decisions on how it's being transitioned have led to a lot of questions, lots of anxiety, and thankfully, lots of humor, cos' with all of this comes a whole new fuckload of stress.
In the past few weeks, I've been on some conference calls with our UK and Prague facilities discussing the transition. The expectation is that my facility will teach everything we know to Prague, and they'll pick everything up in a short period and continue the program exactly where we left off. Our expectation (in Germany) is that the guys in Prague would actually have a fucking clue as to what they would be doing. Of course, one might argue that it's nigh on impossible to transfer three years of information to someone in three weeks, especially if the recipient of this information has never done computer repair logistics before.
Throw in a bit of confusing information from the customer about future volumes, and suddenly it's deja vu. Three years ago, I arrived in Germany to roll out a simply repair program that turned into the wildest, most complicated thing I've ever done in my life, and now, we're about to do the same thing all over again, just a few hundred kilometers to the east.
I've been effectively written out of the program by the boss, but the caveat is: I will transition the program and remain involved until completion of said transition. Um, define completion. It took me almost 2 years to get things stable in Germany, and that was at the expense of a great many things related to my personal life, unfortunately. Am I prepared to go through this all over again?
When I was about 5, I sang in the children's choir at our church. I recently remembered a story my mom used to tell about when our choir sang a little song about anger. During the chorus of the song, we were supposed to put on angry faces and sort of stomp around the stage (during the performance, of course). Apparently, I really got into this, as the choir director commented to my parents that Bryan was pretty enthusiastic during this song, really stomping around as we sang, "Very angry, very very angry..." Now, the whole idea behind the song was how it's ok to express your emotions, whether they be happy, sad, or angry, etc. One has to find ways of releasing agression. Now, when you're five years old, it's a little cute when you storm about with an angry expression on your face. (sort of surprising, though, that a little kid who was simply playing with legos, learning piano, and reading a lot was already showing signs of angst)
35 years on, it's not quite so cute.
I've been more than a little wound up in recent weeks as I've been waiting for this announcement to the team. On one hand, it's the nature of the business, and it's the only way we can continue the business relationship with the customer. The fact that I've been involved up til now and the fact that I must be involved in the future shows that my efforts have not been in vain. That's a positive. On the other hand, I am angered, frustrated, and deeply saddened by the fact that my colleagues, the team that I've built in the past years, are simply going to be told that, "times up, the program's going away, most of you will lose your jobs in the next couple of months." I'm one of those guys that will be around til the lights go out, but unfortunately, the same can't be said for many of the others. There simply won't be work for them, and that means we'll have to terminate contracts for those that we can't find spots for.
It's not a particularly pleasant situation to be in. Thus, I've had a few moments recently where I've stormed about singing a little childhood song to myself, mostly in the privacy of my own home. However, people have certainly noticed that I've not been the most chipper.
Fortunately, I am accepting what has to happen, and though I will continue to be emotional through this, I'm also recognizing the new opportunity and challenges as necessary things that have to be as positive as possible. Additionally, I continue to find the humor wherever possible, even if it's accompanied with a bit of dark sarcasm.
In a recent conference call where we discussed the go live date for Prague, it took 15 minutes for us to confirm that we would begin on the SEVENTH of December instead of the SECOND. It seems that cockney English isn't so easy to understand by guys in Czech Republic who speak English as a 3rd or 4th language.
"Second?"
"No, seventh."
"Second?"
"No, the seventh!"
"Ok, we'll begin on the second."
AAAGGGHHH!
I actually let this debate go on for a few minutes longer than I should have, and eventually jumped in and clarified to all parties. I found this even more funny since at times I'm not the most articulate of individuals, either. Once, I was having a conversation with my mother, and responded to the question, "what's new?" with the response, "I'm grooving to Spanish electronica and going to a lot of tapas bars."
She started doing the little nervous laughter that she tends to do when she's thrown into an awkard situation, (like when someone says fuck too much during a conversation, which has happened more than once during her trips to visit me in Germany) and I later found out that she has misunderstood my comments, and was unsure on how to react to the newfound fact that her son was currently into Spanish erotica and frequenting topless bars.
So on this past Monday, I certainly had a lot on my mind and almost forgot that I had planned to go see a show that night after work. In fact, due to some new developments on the whole transiton of the program, I almost didn't get out of work in time, but in the end, I caught my train, and strolled into a local club at 9pm, just in time.
10 years ago, I was at a SXSW show with Tim, and saw Miles Hunt of the Wonderstuff play an accoustic set. It blew me away. His humbled stage presence and ability to make a simple tune sound so great just reaffirmed for me why I had begun playing guitar. Like Joe Jackson has influenced my piano style, Miles Hunt was one of three people that motivated me to pick up a guitar in the first place. It's not that he's a brilliant guitarist, though he is talented. It's more his ability to write a decent song, both with the right melody and lyrics, and capture the right feeling for the moment.
The fact that he was playing a double bill with one Wayne Hussey, of the Mission UK (the second person who influenced my guitar playing, among other things) was certainly going to make for a decent evening. I was not disappointed.
Miles and Wayne are old friends, going back to tours from 20 years ago when the bands were still together. Now, they are in their 4os and 50s, playing small gigs on a regular basis, and just simply having fun. Miles played the first hour accompanied by a girl on violin; primarily new material from their recent album. It was nice to hear some new stuff, and equally nice to hear a few oldies, both from Miles' solo work as well as a couple from the Stuffies.
After they finished, they mingled with the audience a little, then Wayne came on stage, and started his own little session with us. Last year, he played a similar set (it seems he's quite popular in Germany, among other European countries) where he simply asked the audience which songs they wanted to hear.
Thus, Wayne rolled through many of the tunes any Mission fan would want to hear, and every so often would play a new song or two. As he did last year, he alternated between guitar and piano, in between slugs he took from the ever present bottle of wine next to him. Though he is starting to show is age more and more, his voice is still as strong and deep as ever before, and the small but lively crowd responded with great appreciation. This was no insane punk show, more a quiet accoustic evening, which I most definitely needed.
I stood quietly, sipping my beer, mezmerized by both sets. I ignored the folks around me who weren't much interested in Miles and Erica and kept chatting annoyingly throughout. I concentrated on the music, and, as I said, was not disappointed. I can't quite say I was ecstatic, but I was able to push the thoughts of what was to come later in the week to the back of my mind, at least for a few hours.
Two days later, I stood humbly by our general manager as he announced to my repair line of the coming events. I looked around at the faces of my colleagues as they listened to the short speech, and watched them as they slunk back to their desks afterwards. Though the rumors have been rife over the past two months, the word was now official: because we had done so well as a team and as program, our reward is that the work would be whisked away to another repair location in another country. well done.
My heart was a little heavy Wednesday evening, and it didn't help that Arsenal lost another match. I realized once again that even though I'm a huge fan of the club and a passionate football fan, there are certainly more important things to wonder about. (though what we're going to do about our inability to score goals while our top strikers are injured still weighs heavily on the brain...)
As I went to bed Wednesday night, I wondered how I'd feel after the site wide meeting to be held on Thursday. No one likes to hear about uncertainty within the company, particularly at the end of the year, just as seasonal festivities are hitting full swing. As I expressed this concern, a wise Nadja responded that it was exactly for this reason that I needed to be around friends at Thursday evenings outing for Gaenseessen, a seasonal, traditional goose dinner in a local German restaurant.
I'm glad I pushed my own thoughts to the side and joined everyone for a nice evening in the restaurant, followed by a couple of drinks in the pub. It was good to be around people close to me, and though I was a bit subdued, I did enjoy myself, and it was during dinner I realized that indeed, that very day marked my third year in Deutschland. Quite the milestone, and quite the adventure that I've had over the past years.
And it's really just going to continue, right?
On Monday, I'll be in Prague, digging in to get a potential train wreck of a transition sorted out into a functional, successful repair program. And, perhaps more importantly, my own motivation to continue to become a better Bryan. Thanks for that reminder, Nadja.
I got home last night and was delighted to find a little picture of a new McKee waiting for me. I smiled at the beautiful picture: a little sleeping one snuggled up to a stuffed lamb. I thought briefly about the recurring theme of stuffed animals and their significance in my own life, and that's kept a smile on my face this Saturday morning as I listen to a little mix of Vince Guaraldi, Moenia, Miles Hunt, and the Mission UK.
keep the faith.
bryan
Our company does an annual physical inventory at the end of November. However, because we've had so much turnover in the past few years, not everyone in the management team was as clued in as they should be. Around the second week of November during our weekly management meeting, when we went around the table to allow each person to give their update or comment, I asked the question, "Just when are we going to do this inventory?"
I was particularly curious, as the general manager, the finance manager, and the materials manager (namely, the three guys who should have this task firmly marked on their calendar) had sort of skipped over the topic as if it wasn't going to be done. My personal interest was twofold: one, I tend to have to run my program's PI personally, and second, we were about to have to make a pretty significant announcement to the workers, one that wouldn't be particularly positive. When you're planning a physical inventory, you need alert people who are prepared to make quality counts of the materials. You certainly don't want them distracted and not focusing on the task at hand.
However, in this same period, people were beginning to talk about the need for me to travel to Prague for a couple of weeks, and I needed to see how we could slot everything in. Doing a physical inventory over a couple of days, then doing month end close, then whisking away to Prague for a fortnight struck me as being a bit busy.
At any rate, as usual, we elected to perform the inventory on the 27th of November, which meant at the close of business on Thankgiving Thursday, our repair lines ceased production. I then jumped into gear, making all the normal preparations for the following day's physical inventory count. This required me to back up the system, run a couple of reports, then print out the count sheets that would be used the following morning.
The printing function was particularly fun this year. I've got the system set in a way so that each stock location gets its own separate sheet. This makes it much easier for the individual to count (as there are few lines on the page), but the drawback is that this does kill a tree. I kicked out about 2000 sheets of paper.
However, this year I used our superduper printer, which I had purchased earlier in the year for printing out the repair letter we send out with each repaired notebook. (Dear Mr Customer (in whichever language you want), We are sorry your laptop was broken, but we're glad to have been able to fix it for you...blah blah blah). Thus, instead of the 2 1/2 hour nightmare I experienced last year with multiple paper jams and delays, I got this task completed in about 20 minutes. In fact, the printer was going so fast that I started to become uneasy, thinking of a few Stephen King short stories I've read where normal office products come to life and start eating people. Thankfully, this didn't happen, though the security guard was momentarily panicked as he walked by the frantic printer as it shot out 100s of sheets per minute.
So, as most of America was sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner, I was lugging half a tree upstairs to the "command central," where the inventory would be managed. For control purposes, each sheet has to be hand stamped. Why our company uses only two stamps is beyond me, but I was more interested in getting my sheets stamped so I could go home.
One gets a better idea of what it's like to work in a post office when you start stamping so many sheets of paper. I worked with a colleague and together we found a system where we could zip through this process pretty quickly. Of course, once or twice I accidentally stamped his hand, but hey ho, casualties are bound to happen.
In about an hour, we got my program's sheets completed and logged with the finance manager. I excused myself for the evening, as it was already about 9.30pm, and I wanted to go home. We would begin about 7.30 the following morning.
Pleased with the efficiency up to this point, I prepared myself mentally for the following day by having a few pints in the pub before going to bed at 1.
At 5am, I was awake, trying to force a liter of espresso down me, then took the train back to work. I tend to be pretty psyched up about inventory day, because there's a lot at stake, and it has to be done right. Otherwise, the auditors might find something out of order, and request a recount. My goal: to complete an accurate inventory during the course of the day as quickly as possible.
Because I have to run the PI by myself (for my program), I am sort of left alone by the rest of my colleagues, who have to toil laborously with the other programs. The systems are more complicated, there's more confusion, and I'm always glad to keep my distance from it, despite the personal stress I endure while getting the team through the task.
At 8am, the whistle blew, and we began counting. I ran about like a little kid making sure everyone knew what they were doing, and had a few moments of frustration with one of the guys in the warehouse (who has dealt with materials all his life) who seemed to be confused about what we doing. I struggled to control my patience with him because he seems to forget how to do something almost as soon as he learns it. (Anyone who has seen the movie Young Guns can think of the line, "He ain't all there, is he?") The fact that he's the warehouse lead exasperates me, as typically, I should not expect him to have to ask me where a particular stock location is, particularly since HE is the one who set up the locations in the first place. I delegated the task of counting screws to him, went outside for a handful of ciggy, then headed upstairs to begin keying in the inventory sheets. (basically, for those who haven't done this before, you count up every physical piece of material you have, type it all into the system, then compare it to what your inventory report says you're supposed to have. When they match, you're done. It's as simple as that).
With the help of one colleague, I keyed in the count sheets as they were completed, and by just after lunch, we were ready to reconcile, and recount anything if necessary. The 15 or so people sitting in the next room waiting to do the same thing for the other programs in the facility were just getting started.
Uwe and I noticed that we were about 2 hours ahead of schedule, based on last year's inventory. That didn't mean we were deliberately rushing, but we did like the fact that each year we had improved upon the year previous.
Our counts were really good, and I wasn't suprised to find that we had very little to reconcile. In the end, we were about .8% positive, meaning a very minor difference between the system and reality. I think even Chris would say, "that's pretty damn good."
My finance manager, the ops and materials managers agreed, and we booked it. I dismissed the team around 3pm, and within the hour, I called it a day myself. We had accomplished exactly what I wanted us to.
Because things looked so good, I told my team that I would personally handle the audit that would take place with the accounting firm on Saturday morning. If they found any discrepancy, I would sort it out myself.
To celebrate, I went home and watched Love Actually and ate a pint of ice cream. It's not such a bad way to spend a Friday night, and my evening got better as I skyped with Lynne for a couple of hours. Although I was very tired, I rallied around midnight, and went off to the pub for a quick beer, which turned into a three hour session when I ran into a few people I hadn't seen in awhile who were in full swing celebration, also.
OK, Saturday morning was a little fuzzy, but with another couple of espressos, I was able to hop a train back to work and meet the accounting auditors at 9.30. Some of the counting teams still had more to do, and all of the data input people were frantically entering data, so I got to be the first part of the audit. Everything checked out, and 45 minutes later, I was dismissed. My bit was done.
Back I went to Frankfurt, did the shopping, hit the gym, and felt pretty good about things. I chatted with my parents and grandparents to catch up on their Thanksgiving festivities, then slid into the pub later for just a couple. I ran into Nev, who was drunkenly expressing his joy and celebration of marking his fourth year in Germany. He's one of those ex-Pats that I do like to see regularly, particularly since he simply finds a reason to enjoy anything and everything, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant it might be. Sure, his enthusiasm was fuelled with a couple of days worth of pints, but apart from that, I was touched by how appreciative he was of his experience.
The next day, I ran into him again, as I was watching Arsenal get mauled by Chelsea. As a Newcastle fan, he was not so interested in the outcome, though he was leaning in favor or the Arse. Unfortunately, his indifference didn't come at a good time for me, especially since he was still on his positive high of the celebrations of his fourth year (he basically repeated everything he had said to me the night previous). That said, I enjoyed his company and comfort as the final whistle blew on Arsenal's horrific performance.
I returned to work on Monday morning with a bit of anxious anticipation. True, the inventory was behind us, but I knew the week would be a bit tough. It was time to inform my team, and the other workers within the repair site that we were about to relocate my repair program. Fortunately, this task didn't rest on my shoulders, but instead the general manager of the site. Though this announcement would come later in the week, I was already a bit anxious about the reaction.
I'm sure in the weeks and months ahead I'll have many more stories about my personal thoughts about this iminent change, but right now, the events are still fresh and I need to time to let them become more humorous than they actually are. Fact is, management decided earlier in the year that our company could perform the European repairs for my customer more cheaply in our Prague facility. This came as no surprise to me, but the decisions on how it's being transitioned have led to a lot of questions, lots of anxiety, and thankfully, lots of humor, cos' with all of this comes a whole new fuckload of stress.
In the past few weeks, I've been on some conference calls with our UK and Prague facilities discussing the transition. The expectation is that my facility will teach everything we know to Prague, and they'll pick everything up in a short period and continue the program exactly where we left off. Our expectation (in Germany) is that the guys in Prague would actually have a fucking clue as to what they would be doing. Of course, one might argue that it's nigh on impossible to transfer three years of information to someone in three weeks, especially if the recipient of this information has never done computer repair logistics before.
Throw in a bit of confusing information from the customer about future volumes, and suddenly it's deja vu. Three years ago, I arrived in Germany to roll out a simply repair program that turned into the wildest, most complicated thing I've ever done in my life, and now, we're about to do the same thing all over again, just a few hundred kilometers to the east.
I've been effectively written out of the program by the boss, but the caveat is: I will transition the program and remain involved until completion of said transition. Um, define completion. It took me almost 2 years to get things stable in Germany, and that was at the expense of a great many things related to my personal life, unfortunately. Am I prepared to go through this all over again?
When I was about 5, I sang in the children's choir at our church. I recently remembered a story my mom used to tell about when our choir sang a little song about anger. During the chorus of the song, we were supposed to put on angry faces and sort of stomp around the stage (during the performance, of course). Apparently, I really got into this, as the choir director commented to my parents that Bryan was pretty enthusiastic during this song, really stomping around as we sang, "Very angry, very very angry..." Now, the whole idea behind the song was how it's ok to express your emotions, whether they be happy, sad, or angry, etc. One has to find ways of releasing agression. Now, when you're five years old, it's a little cute when you storm about with an angry expression on your face. (sort of surprising, though, that a little kid who was simply playing with legos, learning piano, and reading a lot was already showing signs of angst)
35 years on, it's not quite so cute.
I've been more than a little wound up in recent weeks as I've been waiting for this announcement to the team. On one hand, it's the nature of the business, and it's the only way we can continue the business relationship with the customer. The fact that I've been involved up til now and the fact that I must be involved in the future shows that my efforts have not been in vain. That's a positive. On the other hand, I am angered, frustrated, and deeply saddened by the fact that my colleagues, the team that I've built in the past years, are simply going to be told that, "times up, the program's going away, most of you will lose your jobs in the next couple of months." I'm one of those guys that will be around til the lights go out, but unfortunately, the same can't be said for many of the others. There simply won't be work for them, and that means we'll have to terminate contracts for those that we can't find spots for.
It's not a particularly pleasant situation to be in. Thus, I've had a few moments recently where I've stormed about singing a little childhood song to myself, mostly in the privacy of my own home. However, people have certainly noticed that I've not been the most chipper.
Fortunately, I am accepting what has to happen, and though I will continue to be emotional through this, I'm also recognizing the new opportunity and challenges as necessary things that have to be as positive as possible. Additionally, I continue to find the humor wherever possible, even if it's accompanied with a bit of dark sarcasm.
In a recent conference call where we discussed the go live date for Prague, it took 15 minutes for us to confirm that we would begin on the SEVENTH of December instead of the SECOND. It seems that cockney English isn't so easy to understand by guys in Czech Republic who speak English as a 3rd or 4th language.
"Second?"
"No, seventh."
"Second?"
"No, the seventh!"
"Ok, we'll begin on the second."
AAAGGGHHH!
I actually let this debate go on for a few minutes longer than I should have, and eventually jumped in and clarified to all parties. I found this even more funny since at times I'm not the most articulate of individuals, either. Once, I was having a conversation with my mother, and responded to the question, "what's new?" with the response, "I'm grooving to Spanish electronica and going to a lot of tapas bars."
She started doing the little nervous laughter that she tends to do when she's thrown into an awkard situation, (like when someone says fuck too much during a conversation, which has happened more than once during her trips to visit me in Germany) and I later found out that she has misunderstood my comments, and was unsure on how to react to the newfound fact that her son was currently into Spanish erotica and frequenting topless bars.
So on this past Monday, I certainly had a lot on my mind and almost forgot that I had planned to go see a show that night after work. In fact, due to some new developments on the whole transiton of the program, I almost didn't get out of work in time, but in the end, I caught my train, and strolled into a local club at 9pm, just in time.
10 years ago, I was at a SXSW show with Tim, and saw Miles Hunt of the Wonderstuff play an accoustic set. It blew me away. His humbled stage presence and ability to make a simple tune sound so great just reaffirmed for me why I had begun playing guitar. Like Joe Jackson has influenced my piano style, Miles Hunt was one of three people that motivated me to pick up a guitar in the first place. It's not that he's a brilliant guitarist, though he is talented. It's more his ability to write a decent song, both with the right melody and lyrics, and capture the right feeling for the moment.
The fact that he was playing a double bill with one Wayne Hussey, of the Mission UK (the second person who influenced my guitar playing, among other things) was certainly going to make for a decent evening. I was not disappointed.
Miles and Wayne are old friends, going back to tours from 20 years ago when the bands were still together. Now, they are in their 4os and 50s, playing small gigs on a regular basis, and just simply having fun. Miles played the first hour accompanied by a girl on violin; primarily new material from their recent album. It was nice to hear some new stuff, and equally nice to hear a few oldies, both from Miles' solo work as well as a couple from the Stuffies.
After they finished, they mingled with the audience a little, then Wayne came on stage, and started his own little session with us. Last year, he played a similar set (it seems he's quite popular in Germany, among other European countries) where he simply asked the audience which songs they wanted to hear.
Thus, Wayne rolled through many of the tunes any Mission fan would want to hear, and every so often would play a new song or two. As he did last year, he alternated between guitar and piano, in between slugs he took from the ever present bottle of wine next to him. Though he is starting to show is age more and more, his voice is still as strong and deep as ever before, and the small but lively crowd responded with great appreciation. This was no insane punk show, more a quiet accoustic evening, which I most definitely needed.
I stood quietly, sipping my beer, mezmerized by both sets. I ignored the folks around me who weren't much interested in Miles and Erica and kept chatting annoyingly throughout. I concentrated on the music, and, as I said, was not disappointed. I can't quite say I was ecstatic, but I was able to push the thoughts of what was to come later in the week to the back of my mind, at least for a few hours.
Two days later, I stood humbly by our general manager as he announced to my repair line of the coming events. I looked around at the faces of my colleagues as they listened to the short speech, and watched them as they slunk back to their desks afterwards. Though the rumors have been rife over the past two months, the word was now official: because we had done so well as a team and as program, our reward is that the work would be whisked away to another repair location in another country. well done.
My heart was a little heavy Wednesday evening, and it didn't help that Arsenal lost another match. I realized once again that even though I'm a huge fan of the club and a passionate football fan, there are certainly more important things to wonder about. (though what we're going to do about our inability to score goals while our top strikers are injured still weighs heavily on the brain...)
As I went to bed Wednesday night, I wondered how I'd feel after the site wide meeting to be held on Thursday. No one likes to hear about uncertainty within the company, particularly at the end of the year, just as seasonal festivities are hitting full swing. As I expressed this concern, a wise Nadja responded that it was exactly for this reason that I needed to be around friends at Thursday evenings outing for Gaenseessen, a seasonal, traditional goose dinner in a local German restaurant.
I'm glad I pushed my own thoughts to the side and joined everyone for a nice evening in the restaurant, followed by a couple of drinks in the pub. It was good to be around people close to me, and though I was a bit subdued, I did enjoy myself, and it was during dinner I realized that indeed, that very day marked my third year in Deutschland. Quite the milestone, and quite the adventure that I've had over the past years.
And it's really just going to continue, right?
On Monday, I'll be in Prague, digging in to get a potential train wreck of a transition sorted out into a functional, successful repair program. And, perhaps more importantly, my own motivation to continue to become a better Bryan. Thanks for that reminder, Nadja.
I got home last night and was delighted to find a little picture of a new McKee waiting for me. I smiled at the beautiful picture: a little sleeping one snuggled up to a stuffed lamb. I thought briefly about the recurring theme of stuffed animals and their significance in my own life, and that's kept a smile on my face this Saturday morning as I listen to a little mix of Vince Guaraldi, Moenia, Miles Hunt, and the Mission UK.
keep the faith.
bryan
Friday, November 20, 2009
This Conversation is Over
Wow, this was a rather interesting week (he writes in his best understated style).
I was in the pub last Saturday (right after writing last week's bit) and found myself overwhelmed by Irish football fans watching the first leg of Ireland - France. I was actually destined for a birthday party, but found myself throwing back pints back at a rather decent clip (as I was to find out later), actually enjoying myself and the folks I was chatting with.
No need to relay the banter...but I did find myself enjoying the atmosphere, but around 2am realized it was best time to go home. Unfortunately, I elected to skip the birthday party, which would have been an ok idea, except the party was in my apartment building. Thus, the boyfriend of the birthday girl came downstairs to get me as I was trying to open my door at 5 minutes past 2. I couldn't just say that I was unable to attend the party, so I trooped upstairs for a little heavy metal and a couple more beers. Ouch. 5 am finally arrived and I begged off for a bit of sleep.
Sunday was a bit foggy, as you can imagine, but I found myself in the gym having a relatively decent workout, though clouded with some interesting thoughts about a variety of things. Normally I'm a bit reflective in the gym (which makes for some interesting facial expressions in the mirror), but this particular day kind of got to me. As a result, the rest of the days planned activities sort of fell by the wayside, and after the gym trip, I spent the rest of the day lost in thought.
I did have the good sense to go to bed early, and awoke Monday with a clearer head, but then ran into a friend of mine on the U-Bahn on the morning commute. She relayed the sad news that some woman around 68 years old had accidentally strangled herself early Sunday morning after having inadvertently gotten her scarf stuck in the escalator in the main train station.
What an unfortunate way to go.
This was a bit higher on the news line, followed closely by the follow up reports on the funeral on one of the German national soccer team goalkeepers, who had elected to end his life the previous week by throwing himself under a train in the north of Germany.
Unbelievable.
At any rate, my mind was pretty full of dark thoughts during the first part of the week, but I found an hour or so to jot down some personal thoughts Tuesday evening, which made me feel quite a bit better. At the very least I was able to sort out some of my own issues.
The same evening I managed to bang out some stuff on the piano for about an hour, so I was acutally in pretty good spirits on Wednesday when I got to work. I spent a bit of time preparing a presentation for a business review scheduled for Friday, and then suddenly one of my customers called and asked if I could arrange to get an extra AC adapter over to the hotel later that day, so it could be picked up when the customers arrived in town.
"Sure," I said, "but don't you mean on Thursday evening?"
"Nope, we're on our way to Weiterstadt, now," replied the guy.
"Um, aren't we scheduled for the business review to take place on Friday?" I asked, realizing that I already knew the answer.
"Let me pass you over," said my customer as he passed the phone to his colleague.
"Uh, let me get this straight. You're planning to meet with us on Thursday in Weiterstadt," I asked, starting to laugh. "Your email asked us to reserve hotels for other dates, and furthermore, some of our guys won't be arriving in Weiterstadt until Thursday afternoon, as we thought you had planned for a Friday meeting!"
My boss had just arrived to work about this time, so I relayed the information to him, saw the look on his face, and immediately switched the mobile over to speakerphone so he could hear for himself.
"No problem," my boss laughed. "Can you please come in around noon, though? We need a bit of time to sort of set up."
He went on to organize a dinner gathering for later that evening. I excused myself, as I'm not always a fan of the customer socializing. Besides, we'd be having dinner again on Thursday. One time would be enough for me.
So, I headed to the city, intent on getting the gym for a midweek workout. My IT colleague phoned me right as I was getting off the metro, and we talked for a half hour about our concerns on the upcoming project where we move the German operations into our Prague facility. There's a transition plan of sorts, that no one (particularly the two of us) has complete confidence in. Never mind the fact that this was precisely the reason we were meeting with the customer the following day, we were concerned because 3 years ago, the two of us set up the German operations.
As most of you know (since any post written between December 2006 and present have tended to refer to the catastrophe of my work as a somewhat difficult experience), the repair logistics industry is a constant roller coaster. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that everything I've built in the past three years is about to be uprooted and simply "switched" to a new facility.
This transition will be rocky at best, and I'm getting the feeling that I'll end up having to go over and do the same things all over again. The new facility doesn't have a track record of laptop repair, which kind of means that they stand to make the same mistakes as we did, even though we "knew" what we were doing.
It's a bit heartbreaking, since the team I built will be disbanded, and more than a few people will lose their jobs in the coming months. However, this hasn't actually been announced yet, and I'd be the first to say the timing is bollocks. ("Hi, due to the fact that we can operate more cheaply in the Czech Republic, we're going to give up your jobs and give them to someone else! Have a nice day!")
Thank goodness I'm not the one who has to give that speech. I'll just have to pick up the pieces.
In a sort of ironic twist, it's our efforts, our sweat and tears, if you will that enabled us to accomplish what we have, and it's precisely these efforts that have earned us the chance to continue the relationship with the customer. Sadly, the reward is a pink slip.
Where does that leave me? Well, like I said, I'm going to have to transfer my knowledge, and, since it took me three years to learn what I have (particularly in relation to the customer), I find it difficult to believe that I can pass this info along in 2-3 weeks, especially to someone who doesn't really know what they're getting in to.
But hey ho, we'll see how it goes.
At any rate, after a bit of a conversation with my English colleague on Wednesday, I got my work out done, cleaned up, and was about to exit the building when I realized I was about to walk into a fistfight that was just beginning right outside the fitness studio. I wisely elected to stay quietly in the confines of the building, thinking the fight would end almost immediately.
I was wrong.
Fighter number one apparently knew what he was doing, because after a little paddling from the second guy, he proceeded to throw about three punches and completely level guy number two, who was suddenly on the ground directly in front of the door. As if this weren't enough, fighter number one proceed to give about 10 good kicks to the unfortunate number two's head, and about this time I realized that I was on the front row of a celebrity beat all fuck out of someone death match.
Eventually, he grew tired of kicking, so he gave one last stamp, then took off, leaving a bloody mess on the ground.
The girl who had come downstairs from the gym with me started scrambling for her handy so she could call an ambulance, as neither one of us believed the guy could get up. However, two minutes later, two people came along, helped the beaten guy up and took off as quickly as possible, leaving a pretty remarkable trail of blood behind.
I elected to head for the u-bahn quickest way possible and get myself home to a place perhaps a bit more safe.
The events happened very quickly, and while I sort of wished I'd done something to prevent the guy getting his head kicked in, I must say I wasn't in the best part of town. My gym is right off a main market platz, and is widely known as the place to get your drugs. There are always guys standing about looking for a deal (or looking to deal), and it's usually best to minimize the contact. Sure, I get hit up for ciggy every so often, but mostly I keep my head down and avoid eye contact.
So, that certainly prepared me for an fun filled day on Thursday, where we suddenly had to jump into presentation mode with the customer. We spent a good 9 hours sitting in the conference room, covering all of our topics, and I must say the meeting was quite productive.
On a positive note, I personally showed well, and that was a good feeling. Previously, I've had initimidation issues with one of the guys who always comes to visit. He's really an ok guy, but because of the challenges we've gone through in the past, he's not always been a particular fan.
That said, we all ate together in an Italian restaurant later that night, and laughed and joked as if we were all buddies. I'm still a key person in the relationship with the customer, so that will mean that it will be a while before I'm out of the picture, even when Weiterstadt operations are no longer.
I got home around midnight Thursday night, and stopped off for a quick drink in the pub. I was a bit too tired, but sometimes you just have to do it anyway. Fortunately, a few friendly faces were about; I was able to relay the events of the past couple of days (surprise customer visits, fighting in the konsti) to people I knew. Alas, I did overstay my welcome, and Friday was coming all to quickly.
However, after a spirited morning with the customer, during which we negotiated our pricing, things quieted down considerably during the afternoon. Of course, it helped that the customers drove back to Brussels. I did a bit of tidy up, had a quick conference call with the call center, then called it an early day, also.
I decided to keep a low profile Friday night. The week's events took a lot out of me, and I was glad to be in bed at a very early hour. I felt very well rested while I was at the gym today, and all in all, it's been a rather pleasant day. Had the Arsenal won their match this afternoon, I'd be feeling pretty zippy. Instead, though, I'm simply OK.
The music I listened to during the course of the week was in line with the type of week I just described. More than once, I found myself listening to a band called Alesana. Alesana can be very irritating because the lead singer has a bit of a whiny voice. Though his voice, as well as the music is very melodic, there's the screaming element that starts to annoy very quickly. That said, I still sort of like to listen to them sometimes.
However, it somehow was fitting that I had a few glasses of wine with them playing in the background, on a rather impressive volume level. Hey ho, none of the neighbors complained.
And, the overall theme of the week was abrubt endings to things: conversations, sms's, topics during our business meetings, etc. Hence, the title of the post.
keep the faith
bryan
I was in the pub last Saturday (right after writing last week's bit) and found myself overwhelmed by Irish football fans watching the first leg of Ireland - France. I was actually destined for a birthday party, but found myself throwing back pints back at a rather decent clip (as I was to find out later), actually enjoying myself and the folks I was chatting with.
No need to relay the banter...but I did find myself enjoying the atmosphere, but around 2am realized it was best time to go home. Unfortunately, I elected to skip the birthday party, which would have been an ok idea, except the party was in my apartment building. Thus, the boyfriend of the birthday girl came downstairs to get me as I was trying to open my door at 5 minutes past 2. I couldn't just say that I was unable to attend the party, so I trooped upstairs for a little heavy metal and a couple more beers. Ouch. 5 am finally arrived and I begged off for a bit of sleep.
Sunday was a bit foggy, as you can imagine, but I found myself in the gym having a relatively decent workout, though clouded with some interesting thoughts about a variety of things. Normally I'm a bit reflective in the gym (which makes for some interesting facial expressions in the mirror), but this particular day kind of got to me. As a result, the rest of the days planned activities sort of fell by the wayside, and after the gym trip, I spent the rest of the day lost in thought.
I did have the good sense to go to bed early, and awoke Monday with a clearer head, but then ran into a friend of mine on the U-Bahn on the morning commute. She relayed the sad news that some woman around 68 years old had accidentally strangled herself early Sunday morning after having inadvertently gotten her scarf stuck in the escalator in the main train station.
What an unfortunate way to go.
This was a bit higher on the news line, followed closely by the follow up reports on the funeral on one of the German national soccer team goalkeepers, who had elected to end his life the previous week by throwing himself under a train in the north of Germany.
Unbelievable.
At any rate, my mind was pretty full of dark thoughts during the first part of the week, but I found an hour or so to jot down some personal thoughts Tuesday evening, which made me feel quite a bit better. At the very least I was able to sort out some of my own issues.
The same evening I managed to bang out some stuff on the piano for about an hour, so I was acutally in pretty good spirits on Wednesday when I got to work. I spent a bit of time preparing a presentation for a business review scheduled for Friday, and then suddenly one of my customers called and asked if I could arrange to get an extra AC adapter over to the hotel later that day, so it could be picked up when the customers arrived in town.
"Sure," I said, "but don't you mean on Thursday evening?"
"Nope, we're on our way to Weiterstadt, now," replied the guy.
"Um, aren't we scheduled for the business review to take place on Friday?" I asked, realizing that I already knew the answer.
"Let me pass you over," said my customer as he passed the phone to his colleague.
"Uh, let me get this straight. You're planning to meet with us on Thursday in Weiterstadt," I asked, starting to laugh. "Your email asked us to reserve hotels for other dates, and furthermore, some of our guys won't be arriving in Weiterstadt until Thursday afternoon, as we thought you had planned for a Friday meeting!"
My boss had just arrived to work about this time, so I relayed the information to him, saw the look on his face, and immediately switched the mobile over to speakerphone so he could hear for himself.
"No problem," my boss laughed. "Can you please come in around noon, though? We need a bit of time to sort of set up."
He went on to organize a dinner gathering for later that evening. I excused myself, as I'm not always a fan of the customer socializing. Besides, we'd be having dinner again on Thursday. One time would be enough for me.
So, I headed to the city, intent on getting the gym for a midweek workout. My IT colleague phoned me right as I was getting off the metro, and we talked for a half hour about our concerns on the upcoming project where we move the German operations into our Prague facility. There's a transition plan of sorts, that no one (particularly the two of us) has complete confidence in. Never mind the fact that this was precisely the reason we were meeting with the customer the following day, we were concerned because 3 years ago, the two of us set up the German operations.
As most of you know (since any post written between December 2006 and present have tended to refer to the catastrophe of my work as a somewhat difficult experience), the repair logistics industry is a constant roller coaster. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that everything I've built in the past three years is about to be uprooted and simply "switched" to a new facility.
This transition will be rocky at best, and I'm getting the feeling that I'll end up having to go over and do the same things all over again. The new facility doesn't have a track record of laptop repair, which kind of means that they stand to make the same mistakes as we did, even though we "knew" what we were doing.
It's a bit heartbreaking, since the team I built will be disbanded, and more than a few people will lose their jobs in the coming months. However, this hasn't actually been announced yet, and I'd be the first to say the timing is bollocks. ("Hi, due to the fact that we can operate more cheaply in the Czech Republic, we're going to give up your jobs and give them to someone else! Have a nice day!")
Thank goodness I'm not the one who has to give that speech. I'll just have to pick up the pieces.
In a sort of ironic twist, it's our efforts, our sweat and tears, if you will that enabled us to accomplish what we have, and it's precisely these efforts that have earned us the chance to continue the relationship with the customer. Sadly, the reward is a pink slip.
Where does that leave me? Well, like I said, I'm going to have to transfer my knowledge, and, since it took me three years to learn what I have (particularly in relation to the customer), I find it difficult to believe that I can pass this info along in 2-3 weeks, especially to someone who doesn't really know what they're getting in to.
But hey ho, we'll see how it goes.
At any rate, after a bit of a conversation with my English colleague on Wednesday, I got my work out done, cleaned up, and was about to exit the building when I realized I was about to walk into a fistfight that was just beginning right outside the fitness studio. I wisely elected to stay quietly in the confines of the building, thinking the fight would end almost immediately.
I was wrong.
Fighter number one apparently knew what he was doing, because after a little paddling from the second guy, he proceeded to throw about three punches and completely level guy number two, who was suddenly on the ground directly in front of the door. As if this weren't enough, fighter number one proceed to give about 10 good kicks to the unfortunate number two's head, and about this time I realized that I was on the front row of a celebrity beat all fuck out of someone death match.
Eventually, he grew tired of kicking, so he gave one last stamp, then took off, leaving a bloody mess on the ground.
The girl who had come downstairs from the gym with me started scrambling for her handy so she could call an ambulance, as neither one of us believed the guy could get up. However, two minutes later, two people came along, helped the beaten guy up and took off as quickly as possible, leaving a pretty remarkable trail of blood behind.
I elected to head for the u-bahn quickest way possible and get myself home to a place perhaps a bit more safe.
The events happened very quickly, and while I sort of wished I'd done something to prevent the guy getting his head kicked in, I must say I wasn't in the best part of town. My gym is right off a main market platz, and is widely known as the place to get your drugs. There are always guys standing about looking for a deal (or looking to deal), and it's usually best to minimize the contact. Sure, I get hit up for ciggy every so often, but mostly I keep my head down and avoid eye contact.
So, that certainly prepared me for an fun filled day on Thursday, where we suddenly had to jump into presentation mode with the customer. We spent a good 9 hours sitting in the conference room, covering all of our topics, and I must say the meeting was quite productive.
On a positive note, I personally showed well, and that was a good feeling. Previously, I've had initimidation issues with one of the guys who always comes to visit. He's really an ok guy, but because of the challenges we've gone through in the past, he's not always been a particular fan.
That said, we all ate together in an Italian restaurant later that night, and laughed and joked as if we were all buddies. I'm still a key person in the relationship with the customer, so that will mean that it will be a while before I'm out of the picture, even when Weiterstadt operations are no longer.
I got home around midnight Thursday night, and stopped off for a quick drink in the pub. I was a bit too tired, but sometimes you just have to do it anyway. Fortunately, a few friendly faces were about; I was able to relay the events of the past couple of days (surprise customer visits, fighting in the konsti) to people I knew. Alas, I did overstay my welcome, and Friday was coming all to quickly.
However, after a spirited morning with the customer, during which we negotiated our pricing, things quieted down considerably during the afternoon. Of course, it helped that the customers drove back to Brussels. I did a bit of tidy up, had a quick conference call with the call center, then called it an early day, also.
I decided to keep a low profile Friday night. The week's events took a lot out of me, and I was glad to be in bed at a very early hour. I felt very well rested while I was at the gym today, and all in all, it's been a rather pleasant day. Had the Arsenal won their match this afternoon, I'd be feeling pretty zippy. Instead, though, I'm simply OK.
The music I listened to during the course of the week was in line with the type of week I just described. More than once, I found myself listening to a band called Alesana. Alesana can be very irritating because the lead singer has a bit of a whiny voice. Though his voice, as well as the music is very melodic, there's the screaming element that starts to annoy very quickly. That said, I still sort of like to listen to them sometimes.
However, it somehow was fitting that I had a few glasses of wine with them playing in the background, on a rather impressive volume level. Hey ho, none of the neighbors complained.
And, the overall theme of the week was abrubt endings to things: conversations, sms's, topics during our business meetings, etc. Hence, the title of the post.
keep the faith
bryan
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Born to Run...Around in Circles
Ah, Saturday night, 8pm. Nope, I'm not at the pub. Instead, I'm slamming espressos and listening to Bruce. Yes, the very same Bruce that happens to be a fan of the Gaslight Anthem.
What brought this sudden change from the melodies of Thought Riot, the Exploited, and the Unseen that I've been listening to lately? I dunno. I was at the store buying a few things to get me through til early next week, including yet another flavor of fabric softener (Geez, as if I need 4 different scents at home to put in the wash...oh well, you never know what you feel like), when Born to Run came up on the ipod randomly. Suddenly, the long line at the check out stand didn't seem so lengthy; the heavy crate of water I lugged home didn't weigh nearly as much after all.
OK, so it's not quite the same as instantly increasing your auto's speed, but I certainly got a bit psyched up, and it couldn't have come at a better time. Today's action packed adventure included a quick coffee with a crying kid at the market, a trip to the gym, a little skype action with Lynne, and the tedious (but quick) task of mopping my floors.
After a littel reading (Stephen King - It) and a brief nap late in the afternoon, I did jump into gear, mainly because I'd decided that I could not allow another day to pass without dumping the umpteen empty wine bottles (er, in fairness, they've accumulated since Lynne's visit at the end of summer) in the glass recycle container outside the front door of my flat. You're not allowed to throw the bottles out past 7pm (otherwise others might be disturbed) and never on Sunday.
I got the bottles out at 6.59, then made the trip to Rewe to the rockin' sounds of Jersey; hence the sudden motivation to jot down a few thoughts.
It's obviously been a while since I've posted anything, but that's not to say I haven't been writing. However, those pieces remain quietly in a notebook; written during quiet reflective moments and not suitable for public reading (except for one drunk guy who came up to me the other sunday and attempted to decipher my handwriting).
At any rate, life seems to be rather up in the air for a lot of people right now, least of all me. I sort of like the uncertainty of it all, though it's easy to let yourself panic if you think too much about it. Thank goodness I don't think about it much. I'm more or less ready for anything, though I suspect the coming events to be pretty extreme, particularly on the job front. But hey ho...
It is a bit comical, though. I've noticed several people giving me second glances during the morning commute over the past few weeks. I think it's because the look on my face in the early morning (besides simply frightening) is one of total confusion. Sometimes it's simply a blank stare, other times it's more pensive, and frequently I look like I'm totally about to burst into tears.
However, more often than not, I'm really just trying to remember if I turned off the coffee machine before I left the house. (Twice in the past month I did forget, which was most irritating)
The look on my face during the evening commute home is arguably more tired, which again, doesn't necessarily bode well for someone my age. However, just after a rather interesting U-Bahn ride home one evening during which several of us watched a rather confused man have an energetic conversation with his armpit, I arrived to the pub and ran into a neighbor of mine. He ended up saying that he thought I was much younger than my age, and I was just about to feel rather touched, when he went on to say that I reminded him of the cast of Grease, as I regularly am seen in motorcycle jacket, blue jeans, and heavy boots.
I didn't slap him; he's about 15 years younger than me, and looks about 11 years old. And, he loaned me the Stephen King books, though he knows most of the early works only through film. ("Man, Bryan, I couldn't possibly read The Stand...it's WAY too long. But the miniseries was AWESOME" Er, yeah, sure.)
The whole age and fashion thing is a topic I'll touch on another time. I'm still plowing through life dressing like I'm mid 20s, which has created interesting moments when I have to explain that indeed, the clothes I'm wearing are the same clothes I was wearing then, also. However, I've one particular jacket that I can't bear to part with, even as it's lining is shredding away to nothing. Come to think of it, my moto jacket is looking a bit worn out, too, but, as I said, that's a story for another day.
Right now, I've got to find a newer looking shirt before I head off to a party.
see you out there.
bryan
soundtrack -
Bruce - Born to Run
Thrice - Of Dust and Nations
Alkaline Trio - Don't Say You Won't
What brought this sudden change from the melodies of Thought Riot, the Exploited, and the Unseen that I've been listening to lately? I dunno. I was at the store buying a few things to get me through til early next week, including yet another flavor of fabric softener (Geez, as if I need 4 different scents at home to put in the wash...oh well, you never know what you feel like), when Born to Run came up on the ipod randomly. Suddenly, the long line at the check out stand didn't seem so lengthy; the heavy crate of water I lugged home didn't weigh nearly as much after all.
OK, so it's not quite the same as instantly increasing your auto's speed, but I certainly got a bit psyched up, and it couldn't have come at a better time. Today's action packed adventure included a quick coffee with a crying kid at the market, a trip to the gym, a little skype action with Lynne, and the tedious (but quick) task of mopping my floors.
After a littel reading (Stephen King - It) and a brief nap late in the afternoon, I did jump into gear, mainly because I'd decided that I could not allow another day to pass without dumping the umpteen empty wine bottles (er, in fairness, they've accumulated since Lynne's visit at the end of summer) in the glass recycle container outside the front door of my flat. You're not allowed to throw the bottles out past 7pm (otherwise others might be disturbed) and never on Sunday.
I got the bottles out at 6.59, then made the trip to Rewe to the rockin' sounds of Jersey; hence the sudden motivation to jot down a few thoughts.
It's obviously been a while since I've posted anything, but that's not to say I haven't been writing. However, those pieces remain quietly in a notebook; written during quiet reflective moments and not suitable for public reading (except for one drunk guy who came up to me the other sunday and attempted to decipher my handwriting).
At any rate, life seems to be rather up in the air for a lot of people right now, least of all me. I sort of like the uncertainty of it all, though it's easy to let yourself panic if you think too much about it. Thank goodness I don't think about it much. I'm more or less ready for anything, though I suspect the coming events to be pretty extreme, particularly on the job front. But hey ho...
It is a bit comical, though. I've noticed several people giving me second glances during the morning commute over the past few weeks. I think it's because the look on my face in the early morning (besides simply frightening) is one of total confusion. Sometimes it's simply a blank stare, other times it's more pensive, and frequently I look like I'm totally about to burst into tears.
However, more often than not, I'm really just trying to remember if I turned off the coffee machine before I left the house. (Twice in the past month I did forget, which was most irritating)
The look on my face during the evening commute home is arguably more tired, which again, doesn't necessarily bode well for someone my age. However, just after a rather interesting U-Bahn ride home one evening during which several of us watched a rather confused man have an energetic conversation with his armpit, I arrived to the pub and ran into a neighbor of mine. He ended up saying that he thought I was much younger than my age, and I was just about to feel rather touched, when he went on to say that I reminded him of the cast of Grease, as I regularly am seen in motorcycle jacket, blue jeans, and heavy boots.
I didn't slap him; he's about 15 years younger than me, and looks about 11 years old. And, he loaned me the Stephen King books, though he knows most of the early works only through film. ("Man, Bryan, I couldn't possibly read The Stand...it's WAY too long. But the miniseries was AWESOME" Er, yeah, sure.)
The whole age and fashion thing is a topic I'll touch on another time. I'm still plowing through life dressing like I'm mid 20s, which has created interesting moments when I have to explain that indeed, the clothes I'm wearing are the same clothes I was wearing then, also. However, I've one particular jacket that I can't bear to part with, even as it's lining is shredding away to nothing. Come to think of it, my moto jacket is looking a bit worn out, too, but, as I said, that's a story for another day.
Right now, I've got to find a newer looking shirt before I head off to a party.
see you out there.
bryan
soundtrack -
Bruce - Born to Run
Thrice - Of Dust and Nations
Alkaline Trio - Don't Say You Won't
Friday, October 09, 2009
Falling on a Bruise
I Just had a chat with a friend who took advantage of something I said to zing me pretty good, enough to make me laugh out loud. It's not important what she said, nor was I really that surprised...just surprised to hear her statement out loud.
It got me to thinking. Here in Germany, I'm a little bit less of an enigma than I was in the states, though it's not as if I've become more open in the past years. I'm not sure what drives that. It's possible that some of the people that I know here are simply more perceptive, simply because there are more opportunities to interact. Here, you're likely going to see about 50 people you know just walking to the metro stop, whereas in the states you can sort of distance yourself from people, at least that's how I see it.
It's considered rude to walk by someone (that you know) without greeting them, and while that certainly exists in all societies, I've noticed it more here, particulary on those days when I'm not interested in seeing anyone (which is a lot). You simply have to smile and say hello, which I think is a really nice thing, even though sometimes I would prefer to be a bit more grouchy. Of course, it's not as if I'm wanting to be unfriendly, it's more with being simply caught up in my own thoughts, etc.
This week has been a bit interesting in this regard, interacting socially, I mean. Monday evening, I landed in Barcelona, and enjoyed a late night dinner of tapas across the street from Nou Camp. The staff at the restaurant appreciated (and noticed) my enthusiasm for being back in Spain, even in my Spanish wasn't perfect.
The next day, I met with a Spanish company about some business opportunities, and it was a really stressful, rewarding day. The people we met weren't very comfortable in English, and I was struggling in Spanish, but I think we all noticed that we all had the same desire to make it work, so we battled on and the communication sorted itself out. Funny, I got a more accepting feeling in Barcelona on a one day business trip than I did while living in Valencia. Before someone tries to make the argument that perhaps it was the fact that said company was trying to get some business from us (hence the delightful 8 course meal (complete with umpteen glassed of wine) we ate overlooking the water), I will comment that I believe they simply responded to the fact that I was trying to be real with them. Sure, I hiccupped a lot in Spanish, just as they did in English (which was a huge deal, cos' my German boss was there, calling the shots), but we found respect for one another; it was a really cool deal.
I dunno, maybe it's a sign that it's simply time to move on.
I've always liked being an enigma, and finding a way to stay somewhat distant from people. However, for some reason, in Germany (and perhaps it's simply the people that I've gotten to know), I know more people that have gotten a little close. I stop short of saying too close, but they've certainly found a way through the normal barriers that I've always used (with relatively decent success).
Kind of cool, and kind of scary, in a way. It's nice to know people, and it's nice to be known, and recognized. I'll never be famous, though I'll forever be recognizable, if that makes sense. Fuck it.
At any rate, this recent experience in Spain was really motivating, so it was a tough fall to take upon my return to Germany. Back in the office to get slammed, bopped around, and possibly written out of the the budget for 2010. It sucks when the week starts out great, then goes down hill in a flash.
However, I find myself compelled to jot down a few thoughts on a Friday night before I head off to the pub. Because my washing machine is dead, I spent a couple of hours at a laundromat in the neighborhood. Fluff and fold, baby, fluff and fold. It's been years since I've done that, and I'm hoping like hell it's a one time event, as I'm off to Saturn in the morning to pick out a new washing machine (am I even old enough to know how to buy a washing machine?) to get my domestic life on track, so at the very least I'll be a very enigmatic ("though the Germans read you like a book") punk with clean clothes.
So, I'm currently finding my place, again. Whether I'll be in Spain, or Prague, or still in Frankfurt in 6 months time is anyone's guess, but I'm simply going to flop about and take it all in stride. It beats watching the shit on TV, eh?
That's the scoop for this week. See you out there.
bryan
soundtrack
The Who - Quadrophenia (entire album). Doctor Jimmy. nuff said. even though i don't like gin.
Thrice - Vheissu (entire album) particularly Image of the Invisible
Carter USM - Falling on a Bruise (just the track)
(note - this is yet another disjointed post brought to you in part by the lovely bodega of Rioja)
It got me to thinking. Here in Germany, I'm a little bit less of an enigma than I was in the states, though it's not as if I've become more open in the past years. I'm not sure what drives that. It's possible that some of the people that I know here are simply more perceptive, simply because there are more opportunities to interact. Here, you're likely going to see about 50 people you know just walking to the metro stop, whereas in the states you can sort of distance yourself from people, at least that's how I see it.
It's considered rude to walk by someone (that you know) without greeting them, and while that certainly exists in all societies, I've noticed it more here, particulary on those days when I'm not interested in seeing anyone (which is a lot). You simply have to smile and say hello, which I think is a really nice thing, even though sometimes I would prefer to be a bit more grouchy. Of course, it's not as if I'm wanting to be unfriendly, it's more with being simply caught up in my own thoughts, etc.
This week has been a bit interesting in this regard, interacting socially, I mean. Monday evening, I landed in Barcelona, and enjoyed a late night dinner of tapas across the street from Nou Camp. The staff at the restaurant appreciated (and noticed) my enthusiasm for being back in Spain, even in my Spanish wasn't perfect.
The next day, I met with a Spanish company about some business opportunities, and it was a really stressful, rewarding day. The people we met weren't very comfortable in English, and I was struggling in Spanish, but I think we all noticed that we all had the same desire to make it work, so we battled on and the communication sorted itself out. Funny, I got a more accepting feeling in Barcelona on a one day business trip than I did while living in Valencia. Before someone tries to make the argument that perhaps it was the fact that said company was trying to get some business from us (hence the delightful 8 course meal (complete with umpteen glassed of wine) we ate overlooking the water), I will comment that I believe they simply responded to the fact that I was trying to be real with them. Sure, I hiccupped a lot in Spanish, just as they did in English (which was a huge deal, cos' my German boss was there, calling the shots), but we found respect for one another; it was a really cool deal.
I dunno, maybe it's a sign that it's simply time to move on.
I've always liked being an enigma, and finding a way to stay somewhat distant from people. However, for some reason, in Germany (and perhaps it's simply the people that I've gotten to know), I know more people that have gotten a little close. I stop short of saying too close, but they've certainly found a way through the normal barriers that I've always used (with relatively decent success).
Kind of cool, and kind of scary, in a way. It's nice to know people, and it's nice to be known, and recognized. I'll never be famous, though I'll forever be recognizable, if that makes sense. Fuck it.
At any rate, this recent experience in Spain was really motivating, so it was a tough fall to take upon my return to Germany. Back in the office to get slammed, bopped around, and possibly written out of the the budget for 2010. It sucks when the week starts out great, then goes down hill in a flash.
However, I find myself compelled to jot down a few thoughts on a Friday night before I head off to the pub. Because my washing machine is dead, I spent a couple of hours at a laundromat in the neighborhood. Fluff and fold, baby, fluff and fold. It's been years since I've done that, and I'm hoping like hell it's a one time event, as I'm off to Saturn in the morning to pick out a new washing machine (am I even old enough to know how to buy a washing machine?) to get my domestic life on track, so at the very least I'll be a very enigmatic ("though the Germans read you like a book") punk with clean clothes.
So, I'm currently finding my place, again. Whether I'll be in Spain, or Prague, or still in Frankfurt in 6 months time is anyone's guess, but I'm simply going to flop about and take it all in stride. It beats watching the shit on TV, eh?
That's the scoop for this week. See you out there.
bryan
soundtrack
The Who - Quadrophenia (entire album). Doctor Jimmy. nuff said. even though i don't like gin.
Thrice - Vheissu (entire album) particularly Image of the Invisible
Carter USM - Falling on a Bruise (just the track)
(note - this is yet another disjointed post brought to you in part by the lovely bodega of Rioja)
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Tengo ganas de gritar
Here it is, the first Saturday in October. I love this month, not just because it's Pablo's birthday in a couple of weeks, not because of the U2 song, though both of those things are worthy of enjoying the month. I simply like the fall season, and it's right about now the temperatures start changing, getting a bit cooler.
A friend sent me an sms earlier this week saying it smelled like fall outside. I actually went outside and sniffed. She was totally right. I hadn't really realized the sensation before; I normally like it when it smells like rain, regardless of the season. The smelling bit was a bit humorous, as I had a cold a couple of weeks ago, was totally congested, and was frequently "trying" to sniff again, which she found rather humorous.
Anyway, though it's my favorite season of the year, fall usually brings me a fair amount of stress. Earlier this year, I postponed some vacation plans, as there were a few sticky situations at work which made summer not so convenient to go holidaying. I felt it better to sort of see how things developed. I kind of went too long without taking a few days (I'm not counting the personal days I took to sort out my visa) off, and suddenly find myself frantically needing a week or so to recharge.
Unfortunately, I have waited a bit too long. I was hoping to take a week in October to sort of muck about, but this past Tuesday, during our management meeting, we went through the timeline of Q4 forecast, 2010 budget, some urgent repricing we need to do for my customer (to save the business), and all in all, my October is going to be frighteningly busy.
I was more than hacked off after that meeting, since I've been struggling to get my life sorted out lately, anyway. I realized that time off would really be out of the question; too much that has to get done in the next couple of months involves me. Two months ago I was trying to figure out how I could help support the launch of new operations in Prague, and now, I'm not only still facing this challenge, I may be implementing a small program in Spain, also. This last bit just popped up about a week ago.
Indeed, I fly to Barcelona on Monday to meet with a potential partner, so I'm frantically trying to remember as much Spanish as possible. Should be interesting, to say the least. Thank goodness I still fit in my suits. I hope like hell that the Spanish guys respect that I'm going to be looking a bit SKA like in my steelies, suit, and skinny tie. I would have bought new shoes today (perhaps a bit more appropriate for business), but it's reunification day in Germany; all the shops are closed.
On the job front overall, I have to sort of laugh, cry, and be proud all at the same time. At the expense of my personal life, relationships, and probably my sanity, I have accomplished the international accounts at law concept that Nate and I used to always laugh about years ago. I've implemented a repair program for Europe, been dragged through the mud for 2 1/2 years as I tried like hell to get it working like planned (and to make it profitable), finally earned the respect from management and the customer, and it's still not enough.
The customer needs a better solution, so management is trying to shift as much volume east as possible, to the lower cost countries. On top of that, this little southern Europe thing has popped up; the customer needs an in country solution for Spain.
I'm the guy that knows the most about how it works, and I'm the guy that lived in Spain. So I'm elected to get involved in both of those projects. That actually is a pretty good thing, but a bit scary for me, too. I'm trying to get my mindset in the right frame so I can attack these opportunities with everything I've got. Kind of wish I had taken that week off in September, though...
Earlier in September, a friend talked to me about expectations, and meeting them. I started a piece on the topic, but at this time I'm still reflecting and scribbling my notes. (there are another 45 - 50 posts that are currently incomplete, what's one more?) However, on the expectation front, I can certainly comment that my experience over the past three years has blown my expectations out of the water. It's been brilliant.
That said, the whole vacationesque (invented word) aspect of accomplishing the goal of working in Europe has been tainted by the fact that I still work in a high stress industry that suggests that, so long as I remain in it, will have to accept that it's more off-roading than smooth streets.
Now, before Owen gets excited because yet another bryan story is more negative than positive, I'll throw in the humorous elements that still make this shit enjoyable.
My washing machine died this last week, but not without a fight. I'm not sure if I simply overloaded it, or if it was truly due for a painful death. About a week ago, for three straight days, I ran loads of wash, and each time, the spin cycle sounded remarkably similar to what it must sound during Armegeddon. Holyshit, it was so loud that I almost had to leave the house.
My neighbors must have been furious, especially since I did it three days in a row; each day was a bit worse. Always louder, borderline Stephen King scary (what if the machine came to life and decided to make a break for it?), and had me waiting for a knock on the door from the police. It's verboten in Germany to piss off your neighbors without just cause.
Fortunately, it was only the last load that couldn't complete. The machine simply died. I pulled the soapy clothes from the wash and proceeded to rinse them in the bathtub. The repairman will come sometime this week to take a look, and hopefully will say, "yep, your machine is fucked and you need another one," then promptly run to the appliance store and buy a new one. (My landlord actually asked ME what we ought to do!! I responded that in my opinion, a machine from 1995 probably needed to be put out to pasture)
To sum things up, it's all about letting it all out. Some things you simply can't control. If you need to scream, then do so. Let it out. A friend of mine commented recently that she wasn't very good at this, and that troubled me. I've always lived with angst, and have always used music, writing, and the weight room to sort things. It doesn't escape me that I did not mention, "talk to people about my issues" as one of my methods.
I'm working on this; I've included it in my goals for Q4. That said, it's a bit of a tall order, but a necessary one, as it's not fair to my friends here who aren't always quite sure as to how to deal with an emotionally intense person that's got a lot on his mind right now. Fortunately, you lot get to read up on it and I tick the box for listening to really loud music when I wrote this.
So, I'll finish the glass of wine, and look once more at the little whirlybird leaves that are falling off the tree outside (sorry, I'm not a Dendrologist, so I don't know the name of the tree that makes those little helicopter leaves that are so cool to watch when they fall to the ground).
Thanks, Pablo, for forwarding the pix from the Cotton Bowl match earlier in the week. Nice to see that those outings can still continue from time to time.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
Apology - Alesana - for a friend of mine in Germany
Revenge - Ministry - still a great track. thanks Kendall
Scream Out - The Unseen - for me
Stare at the Sun - Thrice - also for me
A friend sent me an sms earlier this week saying it smelled like fall outside. I actually went outside and sniffed. She was totally right. I hadn't really realized the sensation before; I normally like it when it smells like rain, regardless of the season. The smelling bit was a bit humorous, as I had a cold a couple of weeks ago, was totally congested, and was frequently "trying" to sniff again, which she found rather humorous.
Anyway, though it's my favorite season of the year, fall usually brings me a fair amount of stress. Earlier this year, I postponed some vacation plans, as there were a few sticky situations at work which made summer not so convenient to go holidaying. I felt it better to sort of see how things developed. I kind of went too long without taking a few days (I'm not counting the personal days I took to sort out my visa) off, and suddenly find myself frantically needing a week or so to recharge.
Unfortunately, I have waited a bit too long. I was hoping to take a week in October to sort of muck about, but this past Tuesday, during our management meeting, we went through the timeline of Q4 forecast, 2010 budget, some urgent repricing we need to do for my customer (to save the business), and all in all, my October is going to be frighteningly busy.
I was more than hacked off after that meeting, since I've been struggling to get my life sorted out lately, anyway. I realized that time off would really be out of the question; too much that has to get done in the next couple of months involves me. Two months ago I was trying to figure out how I could help support the launch of new operations in Prague, and now, I'm not only still facing this challenge, I may be implementing a small program in Spain, also. This last bit just popped up about a week ago.
Indeed, I fly to Barcelona on Monday to meet with a potential partner, so I'm frantically trying to remember as much Spanish as possible. Should be interesting, to say the least. Thank goodness I still fit in my suits. I hope like hell that the Spanish guys respect that I'm going to be looking a bit SKA like in my steelies, suit, and skinny tie. I would have bought new shoes today (perhaps a bit more appropriate for business), but it's reunification day in Germany; all the shops are closed.
On the job front overall, I have to sort of laugh, cry, and be proud all at the same time. At the expense of my personal life, relationships, and probably my sanity, I have accomplished the international accounts at law concept that Nate and I used to always laugh about years ago. I've implemented a repair program for Europe, been dragged through the mud for 2 1/2 years as I tried like hell to get it working like planned (and to make it profitable), finally earned the respect from management and the customer, and it's still not enough.
The customer needs a better solution, so management is trying to shift as much volume east as possible, to the lower cost countries. On top of that, this little southern Europe thing has popped up; the customer needs an in country solution for Spain.
I'm the guy that knows the most about how it works, and I'm the guy that lived in Spain. So I'm elected to get involved in both of those projects. That actually is a pretty good thing, but a bit scary for me, too. I'm trying to get my mindset in the right frame so I can attack these opportunities with everything I've got. Kind of wish I had taken that week off in September, though...
Earlier in September, a friend talked to me about expectations, and meeting them. I started a piece on the topic, but at this time I'm still reflecting and scribbling my notes. (there are another 45 - 50 posts that are currently incomplete, what's one more?) However, on the expectation front, I can certainly comment that my experience over the past three years has blown my expectations out of the water. It's been brilliant.
That said, the whole vacationesque (invented word) aspect of accomplishing the goal of working in Europe has been tainted by the fact that I still work in a high stress industry that suggests that, so long as I remain in it, will have to accept that it's more off-roading than smooth streets.
Now, before Owen gets excited because yet another bryan story is more negative than positive, I'll throw in the humorous elements that still make this shit enjoyable.
My washing machine died this last week, but not without a fight. I'm not sure if I simply overloaded it, or if it was truly due for a painful death. About a week ago, for three straight days, I ran loads of wash, and each time, the spin cycle sounded remarkably similar to what it must sound during Armegeddon. Holyshit, it was so loud that I almost had to leave the house.
My neighbors must have been furious, especially since I did it three days in a row; each day was a bit worse. Always louder, borderline Stephen King scary (what if the machine came to life and decided to make a break for it?), and had me waiting for a knock on the door from the police. It's verboten in Germany to piss off your neighbors without just cause.
Fortunately, it was only the last load that couldn't complete. The machine simply died. I pulled the soapy clothes from the wash and proceeded to rinse them in the bathtub. The repairman will come sometime this week to take a look, and hopefully will say, "yep, your machine is fucked and you need another one," then promptly run to the appliance store and buy a new one. (My landlord actually asked ME what we ought to do!! I responded that in my opinion, a machine from 1995 probably needed to be put out to pasture)
To sum things up, it's all about letting it all out. Some things you simply can't control. If you need to scream, then do so. Let it out. A friend of mine commented recently that she wasn't very good at this, and that troubled me. I've always lived with angst, and have always used music, writing, and the weight room to sort things. It doesn't escape me that I did not mention, "talk to people about my issues" as one of my methods.
I'm working on this; I've included it in my goals for Q4. That said, it's a bit of a tall order, but a necessary one, as it's not fair to my friends here who aren't always quite sure as to how to deal with an emotionally intense person that's got a lot on his mind right now. Fortunately, you lot get to read up on it and I tick the box for listening to really loud music when I wrote this.
So, I'll finish the glass of wine, and look once more at the little whirlybird leaves that are falling off the tree outside (sorry, I'm not a Dendrologist, so I don't know the name of the tree that makes those little helicopter leaves that are so cool to watch when they fall to the ground).
Thanks, Pablo, for forwarding the pix from the Cotton Bowl match earlier in the week. Nice to see that those outings can still continue from time to time.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack:
Apology - Alesana - for a friend of mine in Germany
Revenge - Ministry - still a great track. thanks Kendall
Scream Out - The Unseen - for me
Stare at the Sun - Thrice - also for me
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Part of the Kerb
It's not often that I get a chance to walk around the neighborhood during the working day, mainly since I'm always working. True, the vacation days are few and far between, but I did arrange to spend a few days this month out of the office. For those folks taking 2 and 3 week holidays (which is normal here), my two days may seem like diddly squat, but I'll take 'em all the same, and will enjoy them.
Two weeks ago, I had a nice evening hanging out with Brandon and Karla at a cookout in Mannheim. It was super to be able to catch up again after such a long time. As expected, we took advantage of the freeflowing beer, ultimately missed our train back to Frankfurt, and had to spend the night as sort of uninvited, but very much welcomed guests. For personal reasons, it happened to be one of the best weekends I've had in Germany.
In the spirit of keeping that momentum going, I got myself pysched up for August (thus actually planning to take a few days off) by heading off to the Ordnungsamt early in the month to get my residence visa extended. I had been looking forward to this day for quite some time, as the extension means that I will now have more options regarding future employment within Germany, should I need that.
For a bit of moral support (and a ride), I took Ninjaa along with me, which added a certain element of excitement. First, we arrived late to the appointment, which is not well accepted in this country. Second, she offered an explanation as to why we were late, which was primarily because of traffic (and the fact that neither of us had a Tom-Tom). It's neat to hear Germans argue with one another.
At any rate, once we got through to the office where they would update my visa, I proceeded to speak informally, which is also not quite the right thing to go. Fortunately, Ninjaa helped smooth things along, and we ascertained that my visa would be extended until 2012. One must be in the country for five years before a full residence visa (not requiring renewal) will be issued, so long as the individual passes the language proficiency test. When the guy mentioned that, he sort of glanced in my direction, even though he was addressing Ninjaa. He wasn't deliberately slamming my level of German, but he was acknowledging that I am far from fluent.
True, I was a bit nervous during the whole appointment, since, as I've written here before, what if they reach in a drawer and pull out a list of all the times I've not sorted my trash or something? Unfortunately, this had a bit of a negative impact on my ability to speak clearly and consisely. (I said at least two words in Spanish during the conversation...but one of those was mierda, which doesn't really count)
As luck would have it, though, the guy said, "great, we'll just need to stamp this visa into your passport." However, he suddenly leafed through the passport and said, "um, you don't have any more blank pages. i can't do anything until you've got more pages in your passport."
Mierda.
My passport is 5 years old and certainly filled with it's share of stamps. However, I wanted to point out to him that I personally didn't have a problem if he put the visa over the one page where one small stamp was; a memory of one very bored customs agent in the UK earlier this year (who thought he was clever in merely using a new page as opposed to finding a place on one of the other pages that already had stamps).
Alas, I was told that I'd have to get pages added to my passport, then come back to their office to complete the process. We made an appointment for later in August, and then Ninjaa and I headed to the car.
"Why didn't you speak to them using formal Sie," she asked.
"I panicked," I responded, realizing that the answer isn't the type you want to give your language instructor.
Oh well. I'll get another chance in a couple of weeks.
Meanwhile, I checked out the consulate web page to find out just how one gets pages added to their passport. I'm relatively well travelled, but had never known that this was even a possibility. Turns out it's a pretty easy process, and the consulate web page enabled me to establsh an appointment to get this service.
I selected today for my morning appointment, as I'd already planned to have the day free. So, this morning, I woke up, had my coffee, grabbed my mobile and ipod (and my passport and the necessary forms), stuffed them in my backpack, then took the U-Bahn to the stop nearest the government offices. At 8.27am, I realized that I wouldn't be on time to this appointment either, as once again, I wasn't quite sure where the place was.
Within a few minutes, I did find it (gee, the American flag helped) and was preparing to profusely apologize on behalf of the local transport, (as that seemed more a legitimate excuse than me simply saying I screwed around too much at home and left the house late) when the lady brusquely asked me if I was carrying a handy. Of course I am, was my response, to which she replied, "You'll have to discard all mobile phones, mp3 players, and any other electronics devices; they're not allowed on the premesis."
I didn't try to argue with her, nor did I try to point out that the bloody website didn't mention anything about this. My instructions were only to show up at 8.30 with my little appointment card and my passport. I figured it was understood that I'd have a mobile with me, since 98% of the population carries them.
They weren't messing about. I actually had to go home and unload all the gear. I elected to use a taxi, and had a nice chat with a guy about how silly the whole thing was. He waited for me while I went upstairs to drop off my stuff, and I took advantage of the home facilities. We then drove back to the consulate, and, poop time included, the travel cost me 20 Euro. Not too bad.
Handy free, I was able to receive a ticket number, then was allowed to go through the security check, and eventually got to the waiting hall. A man checked my ticket, then sent me upstairs to wait. 15 minutes later, they called my number, I gave them my passport and was told to wait while they put the new sheets in.
I sat for another 25 minutes in peace, and absolutely loved the fact that no one from my office could reach me by telephone.
Eventually, my name was called, I picked up my passport, then took the bus back home. Not a bad little morning, really, even with the double trip.
Still slightly annoyed, I looked through the web site again, and still couldn't find anything mentioning that handys and electronics weren't allowed on site.
Nadja came over a little bit later before we went to the gym, and I showed her the website and said, "see, what the hell is that. they don't say anything about it."
She pointed to a little link which had a picture of a firearm (with a buster), and we then found a document that, indeed, listed all the things that one cannot bring with them to the consulate.
I think I may have actually seen that link a week ago when I made the appointment, but I think I just said, "duh, of course you can't take a gun to the embassy. why would anyone want to do that?" (um, no real need to answer that question...)
The list is rather extensive but a few items surprised me: can't take nunchucks, hairdryers, swords, baby food, and umbrellas inside. Period.
Wow, it's been awhile since I've needed government services, those aren't even remotely items I would think to take with me. Once again, live and learn.
(note - I'll be interested to find out what's going on in Valencia these days at the consulate. Once Lynne and I were there with baby Daniel, and we had with us all of the items listed above excepts for the nunchucks, as we'd recently been shopping. The two women sort of released the door buzzer without checking to see who we were, then proceeded to sell us some handmade jewellry at a little table in the waiting area. Had someone walked in with a large caliber machine gun, I'm quite sure the women would have said, "hey, put that down carefully against the wall and come over and take a look at these bracelets!"
So, after a relaxing afternoon, I'm preparing to launch myself into the last evening of the Bornheim Kerb festival. The party started last Saturday, and ends tomorrow morning. Obviously, the fact that the main area of the party (ie..where the stage is for the live music) is directly across the street from my living room window. The only way to sleep is to jump into the mix (almost said fray, there), drink as much beer as possible, then stagger home sometime around 6am. At least, that's what I did last time.
There's a sort of coolness about having a full scale party in the middle of the work week. The energy levels are high, and people are out in full force. Thursday won't be known as a very productive work day for most of the community, but hey ho, it's an experience you just can't pass up.
Thus, I'm wrapping this up, so I can go be part of the Kerb.
keep the faith
bryan
anti-soundtrack -
no Schlager
no oldies
no John Denver
no goofy folk songs
Two weeks ago, I had a nice evening hanging out with Brandon and Karla at a cookout in Mannheim. It was super to be able to catch up again after such a long time. As expected, we took advantage of the freeflowing beer, ultimately missed our train back to Frankfurt, and had to spend the night as sort of uninvited, but very much welcomed guests. For personal reasons, it happened to be one of the best weekends I've had in Germany.
In the spirit of keeping that momentum going, I got myself pysched up for August (thus actually planning to take a few days off) by heading off to the Ordnungsamt early in the month to get my residence visa extended. I had been looking forward to this day for quite some time, as the extension means that I will now have more options regarding future employment within Germany, should I need that.
For a bit of moral support (and a ride), I took Ninjaa along with me, which added a certain element of excitement. First, we arrived late to the appointment, which is not well accepted in this country. Second, she offered an explanation as to why we were late, which was primarily because of traffic (and the fact that neither of us had a Tom-Tom). It's neat to hear Germans argue with one another.
At any rate, once we got through to the office where they would update my visa, I proceeded to speak informally, which is also not quite the right thing to go. Fortunately, Ninjaa helped smooth things along, and we ascertained that my visa would be extended until 2012. One must be in the country for five years before a full residence visa (not requiring renewal) will be issued, so long as the individual passes the language proficiency test. When the guy mentioned that, he sort of glanced in my direction, even though he was addressing Ninjaa. He wasn't deliberately slamming my level of German, but he was acknowledging that I am far from fluent.
True, I was a bit nervous during the whole appointment, since, as I've written here before, what if they reach in a drawer and pull out a list of all the times I've not sorted my trash or something? Unfortunately, this had a bit of a negative impact on my ability to speak clearly and consisely. (I said at least two words in Spanish during the conversation...but one of those was mierda, which doesn't really count)
As luck would have it, though, the guy said, "great, we'll just need to stamp this visa into your passport." However, he suddenly leafed through the passport and said, "um, you don't have any more blank pages. i can't do anything until you've got more pages in your passport."
Mierda.
My passport is 5 years old and certainly filled with it's share of stamps. However, I wanted to point out to him that I personally didn't have a problem if he put the visa over the one page where one small stamp was; a memory of one very bored customs agent in the UK earlier this year (who thought he was clever in merely using a new page as opposed to finding a place on one of the other pages that already had stamps).
Alas, I was told that I'd have to get pages added to my passport, then come back to their office to complete the process. We made an appointment for later in August, and then Ninjaa and I headed to the car.
"Why didn't you speak to them using formal Sie," she asked.
"I panicked," I responded, realizing that the answer isn't the type you want to give your language instructor.
Oh well. I'll get another chance in a couple of weeks.
Meanwhile, I checked out the consulate web page to find out just how one gets pages added to their passport. I'm relatively well travelled, but had never known that this was even a possibility. Turns out it's a pretty easy process, and the consulate web page enabled me to establsh an appointment to get this service.
I selected today for my morning appointment, as I'd already planned to have the day free. So, this morning, I woke up, had my coffee, grabbed my mobile and ipod (and my passport and the necessary forms), stuffed them in my backpack, then took the U-Bahn to the stop nearest the government offices. At 8.27am, I realized that I wouldn't be on time to this appointment either, as once again, I wasn't quite sure where the place was.
Within a few minutes, I did find it (gee, the American flag helped) and was preparing to profusely apologize on behalf of the local transport, (as that seemed more a legitimate excuse than me simply saying I screwed around too much at home and left the house late) when the lady brusquely asked me if I was carrying a handy. Of course I am, was my response, to which she replied, "You'll have to discard all mobile phones, mp3 players, and any other electronics devices; they're not allowed on the premesis."
I didn't try to argue with her, nor did I try to point out that the bloody website didn't mention anything about this. My instructions were only to show up at 8.30 with my little appointment card and my passport. I figured it was understood that I'd have a mobile with me, since 98% of the population carries them.
They weren't messing about. I actually had to go home and unload all the gear. I elected to use a taxi, and had a nice chat with a guy about how silly the whole thing was. He waited for me while I went upstairs to drop off my stuff, and I took advantage of the home facilities. We then drove back to the consulate, and, poop time included, the travel cost me 20 Euro. Not too bad.
Handy free, I was able to receive a ticket number, then was allowed to go through the security check, and eventually got to the waiting hall. A man checked my ticket, then sent me upstairs to wait. 15 minutes later, they called my number, I gave them my passport and was told to wait while they put the new sheets in.
I sat for another 25 minutes in peace, and absolutely loved the fact that no one from my office could reach me by telephone.
Eventually, my name was called, I picked up my passport, then took the bus back home. Not a bad little morning, really, even with the double trip.
Still slightly annoyed, I looked through the web site again, and still couldn't find anything mentioning that handys and electronics weren't allowed on site.
Nadja came over a little bit later before we went to the gym, and I showed her the website and said, "see, what the hell is that. they don't say anything about it."
She pointed to a little link which had a picture of a firearm (with a buster), and we then found a document that, indeed, listed all the things that one cannot bring with them to the consulate.
I think I may have actually seen that link a week ago when I made the appointment, but I think I just said, "duh, of course you can't take a gun to the embassy. why would anyone want to do that?" (um, no real need to answer that question...)
The list is rather extensive but a few items surprised me: can't take nunchucks, hairdryers, swords, baby food, and umbrellas inside. Period.
Wow, it's been awhile since I've needed government services, those aren't even remotely items I would think to take with me. Once again, live and learn.
(note - I'll be interested to find out what's going on in Valencia these days at the consulate. Once Lynne and I were there with baby Daniel, and we had with us all of the items listed above excepts for the nunchucks, as we'd recently been shopping. The two women sort of released the door buzzer without checking to see who we were, then proceeded to sell us some handmade jewellry at a little table in the waiting area. Had someone walked in with a large caliber machine gun, I'm quite sure the women would have said, "hey, put that down carefully against the wall and come over and take a look at these bracelets!"
So, after a relaxing afternoon, I'm preparing to launch myself into the last evening of the Bornheim Kerb festival. The party started last Saturday, and ends tomorrow morning. Obviously, the fact that the main area of the party (ie..where the stage is for the live music) is directly across the street from my living room window. The only way to sleep is to jump into the mix (almost said fray, there), drink as much beer as possible, then stagger home sometime around 6am. At least, that's what I did last time.
There's a sort of coolness about having a full scale party in the middle of the work week. The energy levels are high, and people are out in full force. Thursday won't be known as a very productive work day for most of the community, but hey ho, it's an experience you just can't pass up.
Thus, I'm wrapping this up, so I can go be part of the Kerb.
keep the faith
bryan
anti-soundtrack -
no Schlager
no oldies
no John Denver
no goofy folk songs
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