fasteddyking

[fasteddyking]

Stickers

CP’s birthday is coming up, and I want to get her a small giftie.

I know she likes this online comic called ‘Tiny Snek’ - hilarious and weird - and I know the writer of this has a Red Bubble shop, so I decide to look at that.

The range of available products is almost unbelievable. 

As well as expected stuff, like t-shirts and hats, there are unlikely things like drawstring bags and throw cushions. And then super unlikely things like mini skirts and clocks. The most unlikely thing of all seems to be a ‘Studio Pouch’, which is so unlikely that I don’t even know what, exactly, it is.

But when I click onto this product, it turns out to be just a pencil case, which is a bit further up the likeliness scale, and so is disappointing.

In any case, while I am drawn to the werid items, I want something that CP might actually use. I know she likes note books, so I buy one of these, and then a few stickers that catch my eye.

The front cover of the notebook is one of Tiny Snek’s signature comics.

[fasteddyking]

Two Emails

When I get into work this morning, their are a handful of emails in my inbox.

Most are the usual blah work nonsense - follow ups to long abandoned projects, questions about things I am not responsible for and don’t understand - but two of them stand out.

The first is from this company called ‘Prezi’, who make online presentation software. It’s kinda like PowerPoint, only with a slicker interface, and some prebuilt animations that you can add to your things.

It’s not a bad product, although I have only used it once or twice.

In any case, the previous week they contacted me and asked if I would agree to attend an online workshop, to give feedback about their tool.

It was only for 15 minutes, and they were offering a $25 amazon voucher in exchange, so I said yes.

But I almost immediately regretted this.

Rather than use outlook, or even gmail, the Prezi team are using some virtual meeting service I have never heard of to manage these workshops, with the improbable sounding name of ‘mixmac.’ 

So as soon as I clicked ‘accept’ to the online workshop I was immediately bombarded with a blizzard of mixmac emails; one thanking me for accepting, and then one asking me to register for a mixmac account, and then one thanking me for doing this (after I had done it), and then one asking me to accept a mixmac invite to the same workshop (in place of the original email invite), and then one thanking me for doing this, and then one advising me of the URL and meeting # I needed to log into the virtual workshop, and then one advising me that I was now all set.

There may have been others. There were so many that I started deleting them as they popped up, and only reading every second one.

The one good thing about the micmac emails was that they addressed me by my surname, ‘King’. As in, ‘Hello King, We are happpy to advise that your micmac account has been established, etc.’

I enjoy this so much that I take a screengrab of one of the micmac emails, and email it to all of the my close colleagues at work. I advise everyone that this is how I would like to be addressed in the future.

Once all of the mixmac emails are dealt with, I receive an email from Bhagwash Abdi, a Prezi manager, who thanked me for accepting their invite to the workshop. Bhagwash soberly advised me that I would soon be receiving a meeting invite from their mixmac service, which would very simply indicate how I was to access the workshop when the time arrived.

This is the about the time that I would normally have abandoned the whole thing, but cancelling would have undoubtedly have meant more mixmac emails, so i let it lie.

The other notable email is from Adobe, the global software giant.

This one is from one of their regional sales reps, who sadly does not address me as ‘King’, but who does instantly promote me to a very senior position.

His email starts:

Dear Mr King,

We have been advised that you are the manager responsible for Marketing Initiatives at your organisation. As such, we would like to invite you to a marketing symposium we will be conducting later in the month in Sydney. Topics will include recent innovations in digital marketing, and strategies for coping with marketing challenges in the 21st century.

And it goes on, detailing this phantom reality where I am the Marketing Initiatives Manager, charged with getting our customers to read their emails, which Adobe is more than happy to help with.

I take a screen grab of this as well, and email it to all of my close colleagues at work.

[fasteddyking]

The Forward Plan

Once a fortnight we have a catch up with The Boss.

That is me, The Boss, and the other Technical Writer I work with, Munzie.

We go through our work in progress, and then look at a forward plan that I maintain, that shows upcoming projects. 

These projects on the forward plan are all things that may need some documentation from us - step by step guides, or similar - at some future time. So I have listed these projects, put the likely start and finish dates, and made an effort of the estimate required by Munzie and myself to complete them.

I have converted this info into a colour-coded power point thing, with a symbol key and slick sounding acronyms like ‘FTE’ and ‘TNA’.

The Boss really likes my forward plan.

‘This is one of the best forward plans I have seen,’ she said one time.

The info in my forward plan comes from different meetings that I attend, where other departments across the business present their forward plans. Their forward plans are all a bit different, but are all fundamentally the same; there is a list of projects, dates, deliverables and effort estimates. 

These all get updated from time to time.

I attend these different meetings so I can stay across everyone else’s forward plan, and then work out which items from these forward plans impact our team, and so need to be represented in our forward plan.

I am not totally sure where these other teams get their forward planning info from, but I imagine the process is much the same. 

Someone from these other teams, the one’s whose meetings I attend, will attend different forward planning meetings with still other teams, more senior ones, and they will review these more senior teams forward plans, so that they can work out which items from there need to go onto their own forward plans, and, from there, into my own forward plan.

These forward planning meetings reference other forward planning meetings, where similar forward planned projects are itemised and detailed, analysed and scheduled, noted and copied, from one management team’s forward plan, to another management team’s forward plan, to all of their subordinate team’s forward plans.

And beyond those meetings and those teams and those forward plans?

More forward plans.

And more forward plans.

And more meetings to discuss them.

And more items copied from one forward planning session to another.

And then still more forward plans.

And after a while you wonder where the centre of all this is. 

As in, where do the ideas actually originate? 

Where is forward plan # 1?

The original forward plan, that gave shape to all the others. 

Patient zero. 

“If we cannot find patient zero, then we will never find the cure!!”

The Boss drags me back from my day dream reverie by asking a question about my forward plan.

‘That bill outsorting thing,’ she says, indicating one of the line items. ‘Where did that come from?’

I wonder if anyone, truly, knows the answer to this.

‘It was mentioned in a back office catch up I went to. They said there might be some work there for us.’

‘Hmmm, no, I don’t think so.’ The Boss says. ‘That whole project is on hold. It’ll probably be cancelled.’

The other thing that you wonder about, or at least notice, is how few of these forward planned things seem to make it into reality.

'Ok cool, no problem.’

And I delete the Bill Outsorting line item. 

We move onto the next line.

[fasteddyking]

Holey Moley

The Boss has exciting news for me.

On the weekend, she went to a new bar called ‘Holey Moley.’

This is a bar that contains... a mini golf course!

‘You buy a round and they give you one cocktail to take round with you. And then the course is deigned so that every few holes brings you back to the bar so you can top up.’

I agree, this is exciting.

Outside of this, and ‘hello’, ‘good morning’, ‘how are you’, and ‘how was your weekend’, these are the only words I exchange with The Boss all day. Clearly, she is about as interested in discussing work as I am.

Later, via email, I try and float ‘Holey Moley’ as a venue for Friday night drinks. it is CP’s birthday on Friday, and a few of us (probably quite a few), are going to step out for a bevvy after work. 

But CP puts the kybosh on it.

‘I’ve heard of Holey Moley, but Katz wants to take me there.’

Johnny Katz is CP’s new boyfriend, who she met on bumble.

JK: Well where will we go then?

CP: Probs trunk.

I roll my eyes at this. 

Trunk is a bar next door to our building. 

It’s not a bad looking place; it’s an old industrial building of some sort, red and cream brick with brushed iron fixtures, that has been repointed and transformed into an up market watering hole. There’s a small courtyard out the front, that continues round the side, and a cavernous interior with jumbo communal tables that echoes and makes it hard to understand anything anyone is saying.

It is also, seemingly, the only choice when it comes to after work drinks. There are so many people form our building there on a Friday arvo that it looks like an all-staff meeting.

I whinge at CP.

JK: Not Trunk again?

CP: How come not?

JK: It’s a bit boring going to the same place every time.

CP: Ha ha! You never come for drinks. I have never seen you there.

(Pause)

CP: This makes me happy.

JK: Ha! I do go there. 

(Pause)

JK: Only, if I see you I hide behind a pole.

We send more ‘haha!’ messages to each other.

And despite my whinging, there is a sort of inevitability about it all; Friday will roll around and we will go to Trunk and, most likely, no one but me will care. 

And even I won’t care that much. I will either get properly drunk, in which case I could have a good time in the Western Sahara, or it will be boring and I will split early.

There is not much point arguing about the venue, when faced with inevitabilities like these.

[fasteddyking]

Goat Parkour

Our team sits on the seventh floor.

There’s not much of a view; across the road is a 4 star hotel, and you can see the top level of their carpark, and their air conditioning plant.

The Boss sits at the end of our row, so has an unobstructed view of this all day.

Today, she sees something odd out there, and calls me over.

The Boss: What do you think they’re doing?

I look, and on the top level of the carpark is a group of teenagers. There’s a bout eight of them, all dressed in hoodies and baggy jeans, and they’re standing in a loose circle.

They don’t appear to be doing... anything.

Me: Well,I’m not sure.

The Boss: Has someone collapsed?

And when I look closer, I can see that there is a body lying on the ground in the middle of the circle.

The Boss: Maybe we should call someone?

But the teenagers look very chilled. I mean, it doesn’t look like anything alarm worthy is going on.  

And then, the person lying in the circle... gets up! And they all chat a bit, and then start to move off.

The Boss: Well that was weird. 

Me: Yeah.

The Boss: Maybe they were going to do that thing. You know, the climbing thing? Running and jumping off buildings?

Me: You mean, parkour?

The Boss: Is that what it’s called? I always wondered what that was!

She looks excited.

The Boss: Like, I had heard the term, but I didn’t know what it was. 

Me: Yeah, that’s the running and jumping thing.

The Boss: Parkour!

She scrabbles in her bag and gets her mobile phone out.

The Boss: Now that I know that, this thing I watched earlier makes total sense, Have you seen a video called ‘Goat Parkour’?

As usual, I have not seen it. Somehow I am always the last to see viral videos.

The Boss finds her phone and loads the vid. We watch it together at her desk.

It is a montage clip of goats, mostly little cute ones, jumping over obstacles and boxes and tables and other goats. Many of the clips are in super slow-mo, and the goats look almost deliriously happy.

The Boss: Goat Parkour!

[fasteddyking]

The Looming Tower

I follow this website called ‘Five Books.’

It’s a dorky sort of thing; kinda intellectual, but mostly just dorky. Each week an expert of some sort nominates five books that they would recommend, from their field. And they give an interview about why they like them.

I’m interested in history, so history related topics are what I focus on.

So this week there are five books about the history of terrorism. Most of them look pretty interesting, but it’s the most recent one that catches my eye. ‘The Looming Tower’, it’s called, by Lawrence Wright.

This is a journalistic account of the 9/11 terror attacks in America, focusing mainly on the build up; who were the people behind this? How did they get to that moment in their lives? What historical factors helped put them there?

I decide to get a copy, so I email a few bookstores near our office.

One of them, a smaller bookstore called ‘Hill of Content’, pings me back to say they have one and they’ll put it behind the counter for me.

I head down after work, and explain to the cute young girl behind the counter what I’ve come for. She is short, and has wavy black hair, several piercings, and wears a men’s checked shirt.

‘Oh yeah!’ she says. ‘I just put that aside for you, like, an hour ago. In fact, I put two copies aside.’

Me: Two?

Her: Yeah. We have two different editions, so you have two covers to chose from.

And she gets them and puts them on the counter.

They are both paperbacks.

The simple one, the one I like on first glance, is tan with the title in black down the right hand side, while on the left, a black stencil of a jet is flying towards the writing. The other one has a glossy cover which shows a grid of mugshots, presumably the perpetrators of the attack, with the titling in embossed print over the top.

Her: What do you think?

Me: Yeah. I like the simple one, but I think this more elaborate one looks a bit sturdier. Like, that cover might be a bit more durable.

The girl considers both covers.

Her: (Points at the simple one) Really? You prefer that one?

While we are looking at them, another customer has joined us at the counter; a big guy, with a bushy beard and a broad brimmed hat. He wears a fluro, high viz vest, and looks like he has been sleeping rough.

He is buying a book on dogs.

Me: Yeah, I like that simple sort of one, but then again, that second one is pretty good too. And that cover looks a bit tougher.

Her: I definitely like that second one better.

Beardy Bloke: (tuning in to our conversation) There’s no question about it. That second one is MUCH better.

Me; Really?

Her: I like it better.

Beardy: There’s no question.

I consider this.

Me: Ok then. I’ll take that second one.

The cashier looks oddly pleased. She smiles broadly, as she bags the book for me and rings it up on the till.

Alongside me, the beardy bloke is served by a different girl, and is trying to pay for his dog book with masses of change. He keeps pulling handful after handful of silver shrapnel put of his pockets, and piling it up on the counter.

[fasteddyking]

The Downer

Sunday I wake up before Kate.

She lies next to me, slightly restless, occasionally turning in her sleep. She went to see Billy Bragg last night with her brother, at the Arts Centre, so she's tired. 

It is early, about 7am, and Kate probably won;t wake up for hours.

Once I'm awake I can't get back to sleep. It's always like that for me.

I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It's plain white and dusty, has a kind of greyish sheen to it, and is edged by that elaborate bordering that you see in older houses. They don't bother with that sort of thing when they build houses anymore.

After I stare at the ceiling for a bit, I ease myself out of bed, careful not to disturb my lady, and walk quietly into the study. I flip open my laptop and let the currents of the internet carry me along; from the New York Times, to Red Bubble, to Pitchfork, to Etsy, to a blog about some bloke’s hiking holiday in the dangerous tribal areas of Pakistan (which is probably fake, although it is hard to be sure).

Through some combination of clicking, and searching, and random thoughts, I find a website where there are postings of (what are purported to be anyway) real suicide notes. 

I read one of these:

My dearest Andrew,

It seems as if I have been spending all my life apologizing to you for things that happened whether they were my fault or not.

I am enclosing your pin because I want you to think of what you took from me every time you see it.

I don't want you to think I would kill myself over you because you're not worth any emotion at all. It is what you cost me that hurts and nothing can replace it.

And this one:

Dear Joan,

For 23 years we lived happy together. Our married life was ideal, until two years ago when I witnessed Kristy die in the hospital something snapped in me. You remember when I returned from the hospital I broke down. That was the beginning of my illness. Since then my condition was getting progressively worse, I could neither work or think logically. You have been thru "Hell" with me since then. Only you and I know how much you have lived thru. I feel that I will not improve and can't keep on causing you and the children so much misery. I loved you and was proud of you. I loved the children dearly and could not see them suffer so much on account of me.

Dear Children:

Please forgive me.

Love, Frank

And this one:

I’ve lost everything, so why go on? I worshiped Ron, and when he went I lost my whole world and everything.

I am so tried and lonely. I need to go to a doctor, but I am afraid.

I am so cold.

Love, Louise.

And this one:

People have always put obstacles in my way. One of the great ones is leaving this world when you want to and have nothing to live for.

I am not insane. 

My mind was never more clear. 

It has been a long day. 

The motor got so hot it would not run so I just had to sit here and wait. The breaks were against me to the last.

I don’t really... I mean, I almost can’t remember how I found the website. it feel slike the whole world falls away and I am lost in these last words.

I start reading and I read for a long time.

I have a good cry, somewhere along the way.

[fasteddyking]

Day 1

A woman went mental at me on the phone today.

I work for a large power company and we have been having trouble with our billing systems. As in, computer errors and miscellaneous glitches have caused a few thousand accounts to go out late. Instead of getting your power bill in July, say, you might have only just got it now.

Or, if it were due in August, you may not have received it at all yet.

Now, if this happened to me, I don't think I'd even notice. I'm not really that attuned to the life cycle of my utility bills and if one were overdue by a few weeks I doubt I would miss it. It would have to be overdue by a long way, months, before it would even occur to me to think, 'Hey, my power bill hasn't come yet.'

And even then, I doubt I'd call the company about it.

But there are people out there, lots of them, who are attuned to this cycle. And who do notice, immediately, if their power bill has not landed with them 90 days after their last one.

People with too much time on their hands. With nothing useful to do with themselves. 

These people ring up, immediately, once their bill is overdue by a few days. The woman who yelled at me is one of these.

Our company has thousands of these overdue accounts and we have a fairly simple system for dealing with complaints about them: Firstly, apologise and say we're working on the problem, if the person is particularly upset then we can have a $100 credit tacked onto their account.

Going back to me again, if I did notice that my bill was overdue and I did bother to call my power company about it and the person I spoke with politely apologised, said I would get a bill soon and offered me a $100 for my trouble, I would be well pleased. Effectively, this is a hundred bucks for nothing. I would've got the bill anyway and now it's a hundred dollars less than it would have been.

I'd be hoping that the next bill is overdue as well.

The woman I spoke to today, Margaret, was not happy with this as a resolution. This is, partly, what she said to me when I outlined what I've noted above to her (imagine this at maximum volume):

'THAT ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH!! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE SENT ME A BILL AND I WANT YOU TO SEND IT TO ME!! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN THERE!! IT'S ABSOLUTELY BLOODY DISGRACEFUL!! YOU PEOPLE THINK YOU CAN RIP ME OFF AND I'M SUPPOSED TO JUST SIT HERE AND TAKE IT!! WELL IT'S UNACCEPTABLE!! I WANT YOU TO GET OFF YOUR ARSE AND GET THAT BILL DONE AND SENT TO ME RIGHT NOW!!!'

I mean, is this really all she has to think about? That her power bill is overdue? Is she not aware that one third of the world's population gets through the day without regular electricity? That they would view having cheap electricity connected to their house 24-7 as like a miracle of science?

And the paragraph before last was only the beginning. Margaret went completely bezerk at me, her voice rising to a shriek as she yelled about how terrible it was she hadn't received her bill.

For my part, I sat quietly, not really listening, wondering how someone could get so worked up about something that didn't matter at all. Life is too short, surely, to worry about this sort of rubbish.