I'm entering a third week at the new gig, and there's a lot to adjust to.
The team I work with now is small. Most days, I'm on a team of three or four.
In CorpWorld, you hesitated before doing something out of the ordinary, because the chances are there was a person whose entire job description consisted of performing that task.
At the new gig, you just do things. If nothing breaks, you get to keep doing it.
The boss is brilliant, but utterly overcommitted. Ramping me up is clearly putting a strain on their schedule. Also, there is the difficulty of me being so far behind the curve.
We're a Mac shop - and me speaka da Windows.
Surmountable, surely, but part of the new gig is using a VM to hop between different systems and operating systems - so my Windows brain is constantly trying shortcut keys that mean different things on Linux or the Mac.
And I hate using the mouse. It was a point of pride that I could do damn near everything on a PC without going near the mouse. (ALT-Tab,Tab,Tab. Whoops. ALT-Shift-Tab, ALT-Spc, M, right arrow, hah!). In Mac-land, the shortcut variation is killing me.
E.g. Tab switch in Chrome: Option+Command+Right/LeftArrow
Ok.
But Tab switch in Safari: CTRL+Shift+RightArrow - or at least that's what it says in the menu bar, but what actually works is Shift+CTRL+Command+Right/LeftArrow.
There must be a setting, because that is seriously F-ed up. Apple has draconian control over its world, you'd think standardizing keyboard functions would be on their list of musts.
The boss is patient while I thrash around and ultimately reach for the hated mouse.
This isn't over, mouse. Mark my words.
Aside from the usual new network stuff, the tech side of the new job is pretty straightforward. They have a dinosaur back end and are in the process of making it more modern.
This, I can help them with.
Their current process is - to be polite - brittle. And labor intensive.
It's an open question as to how much automation can be added before a new system rolls in and replaces the old one.
Because a new system is coming - and a big slice of what I will be doing is mapping out what the user group needs and how we can bend the new system to our will.
This should be...exciting.
That's a sick thing to admit, but there's a lot of promise in the air. It's the age old UX trap, before the code is laid down, all things are possible. The fact that this will be a vendor product will crap over most possibilities.
But the existing user base has come to expect a slew of customizations - and while most are surely doomed, some must be saved.
Software change is upfront, visible and expensive.
True.
But human change is long term, largely hidden, and at least as expensive over time.
The trick is to map the ROI of the requested customizations and focus on the ones that pay off the most often.
Like logging in.
A vendor product that requires a log in as opposed to single sign on is going to tax users memories every day. Your tech support staff will have to support them when they lock their account out. You'll have a separate password recovery stream if the app has its own credentials.
Is it worth it? Can you allow a customer database to be always logged in? I dunno, but they should be planned decisions rather than late surprises.
Oh, THAT's how that works. What do we do now?
Should be fun.
I have an office now. It's subterranean, but it's got a lock and everything.
They were passing out Tornado/gunman procedures and the procedure for is basically.
Go to a place exactly like your office and shut the door.
*Slam* Done!
Good times.
Parking is a mess, but I remember this from back before CorpWorld. I used to bounce the car around on street parking and dodge parking enforcement.
They are unbelievably cool about flexible schedules. The Boy is due for another round of doctor appointments and making them would have been a real pain from CorpWorld.
Here? Ain't no thing. The Boss is absolutely fine with it. A load off my mind.
And I can walk to lunch.
Downtown - where a thousand firehoses of culinary sin are aimed right at your head.
Delis, Gyro shops, Indian-freakin'-buffets... God, but I need to get out running. This place will kill me.
I go out for coffee, now. Meet E for lunch on occasion. I've missed the bustle of downtown. Being a pedestrian is still new enough to feel strange. I walk in the rain and grin like a madman.
I'm sure this time next year, I'll be cursing the weather as I march to the car, but for now it's a grand new thing. I can see the water, watch the bikers scream down the trails and feel like a new person.
That reminds me, I think I'll go grab some coffee.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Wednesday, April 03, 2013
Three Days Off
I'd been advised by more than a few people to take time off between jobs. I didn't put much stock in that simply because unpaid days are not good for the bottom line.
In preparation for the new job I've already laid out a good amount of cash. A new laptop. New software. The missing manual for each, because RTFM, right?
But it shook out that I would have three days between jobs. The new gig couldn't start me right after my old one started.
Three days! What would I do with myself? I came up with a laundry list of things I never get to do.
Chief among them was hanging out in a coffee shop and killing time over caffeinated beverages. Not big dreams, but something that seemed an unimaginable luxury.
Having time on my hands.
Any other day, there are projects to do, chores to be done, meals to be made or tedium to endure. But I would have three days to myself.
Well, two actually.
Turned out that my kids were out of school the day after Easter and it makes absolutely no sense for us to pay for day care or have E stay home when I'm unemployed and idle.
I make a day with the kids. That's a different kind of luxury. Most weekends will find E and I passed out on a couch somewhere while the kids glaze over the TV. But a weekday free with nothing on the schedule?
I plan to go to the airport restaurant. Not a generic one, but a local place that I've spent most of my exfil sessions lately. Little e loves the idea - so naturally the Boy hates it. Little e is sure that I'll take her side, but the Boy has been in such a foul humor lately that I decide to humor him. He picks the place - a decent one, too, a former gas station converted into a diner.
Little e screams her disapproval the entire way there.
Eventually, she calms down and we have a more or less pleasant meal. For some reason, the kids get to talking on art, and I remember a trip we took to a local art museum. The kids loved it. And - improbably - they like the idea now.
So we go.
Naturally, the museum is closed that day. So, instead of taking two excited kids to the museum, I end up with two crabby kids complaining about the weather and why they aren't at home.
I persevere and schlep them into a local library that is pretty scenic. It distracts them for about ten minutes and then they want to leave. So I seize on a poster advertising an exhibit on the Civil War. History!
It's on the fourth floor. So, we march up four flights of stairs - kids complaining the whole way - and discover the exhibit consists of six photographs on the wall and a poster.
Great.
With that, the kids announce that they want to go home. I still have two errands to run, but the kids have had it and I'm not in a mood to push it at this point. This is supposed to be a fun day and after lunch we'll try to go out again.
Home. Post lunch I'm trying to get the kids out the door and now the Boy's saying his stomach hurts too much to go out.
Seriously? But I have two things I need to do. The Boy has a science project coming up that needs copper wire and I have to mail something to E's sister. My hope that the Boy's project would inspire him to come along dies when the Boy announces that he hates his science project and doesn't want to do it anymore.
Arrgh.
We're doing this anyway. I drag, push, cajole and otherwise tiger-dad the two kids out to the car and each wails about how they just want to stay home.
But we're doing this. So I hit the post office first. The Boy wants to come with, the girl would rather stay in the car. Should be quick, so I'm good with that.
Soon as I hit the door, I see a line of a dozen people ahead of me. This will not be quick. But we wait, because we're here. The Boy is demonstrably in distress. Leaning and flopping over anything he can find. I am sick, SEE? he says without words - over and over.
We're six people from the counter when one of the three cashiers realizes their cash machine doesn't work. The person they're serving only has a debit card, and there is a great deal of delay while they sort out if this is an issue with each and every card this person has.
But no, it's the machine. I only have a debit card, too. So, three cashiers now drops to two for me and (apparently) most of the people in line.
For no apparent reason, the third cashier up and leaves - so now we have a single cashier for debit transactions.
Right when I'm the next person in line, the last machine goes down, too. I have no cash and this is now a wasted trip, but hey - at least I spent all that time in line hoping, right?
The Boy is flopped over a stack of postal forms, so I stand him upright and lead him out, telling everyone on the way out that the place is now cash only.
Back to the car. The Boy really seems in distress now. I'm wondering if he's about to be ill ('cos, y'know - I'm due, right?).
But we press on to the hardware store where both children announce that they will sit in the car while I run in for the copper wire.
Ah, the family outing. Hardware store is inexplicably free of the old guy, and all I need is three feet of wire. The sign on it imperiously warns that you MUST HAVE ASSISTANCE to cut the wire - so I spend ten minutes waiting behind some dork having a lengthy conversation with the lone old guy as if there is no other human being in the universe than them. And wasn't their story about porch lights just oh-so-riveting?
Gah.
I get my wire and catch a break when I remember that I can get cash back from the hardware checkout. The kids won't have to go to the bank before we go back to the post office.
Still, they complain about returning to the post office, because they're tired of being in the car. But I'm getting this done. So it's happening.
Both kids want to wait in the car this time. Little e offers to read Encyclopedia Brown to the Boy. The Boy tells her to shut up - because he knows all the stories already.
I run in and spend half of forever in line behind a stream of people - each of whom needs, REALLY needs to hear a detailed explanation of why the registers aren't accepting credit or debit cards today.
But I get the package paid for and we're done. And I can't get them home fast enough.
That was my first day off.
Second day's morning was soaked up by a visit to the diabetic nurse. I'm behind on my check ins with her. Should have had an appointment last year and didn't. There's a certain amount of reproach in this meeting but I don't care.
About a week ago I was working out with the Penguin and I clearly overdid it. Became dizzy, unable to think and had to sit down. I briefly passed out and came to as the Penguin propped me up.
So I was happy to be at an appointment for once. I wanted answers. The previous week, I had a stress EKG and it came back normal - so I'm wondering if there is something that the diabetic experts could tell me about why I got all screwed up.
When I was all fally-downy at the gym, I assumed I was having a Low- the boogeyman of diabetics. Blood sugar drops below 70 and suddenly your brain decides to start short circuiting. But I tested my levels at the gym and I was high - over 140. So I didn't know what the hell.
The diabetic nurse had no answers for me, though. Everyone's different, she says. She bounces a few questions off me about what else might have contributed to my dizzy spell - but nothing sticks.
She tells me my historical levels are looking good and that I'm doing well in other aspects. She'll schedule a follow up with me for six months and - thanks for checking in.
Day and a half of my three days gone.
The afternoon I've already posted about - how great it was to kick back and play cafe poser - and how the murphy's law tried to screw me.
But day two's afternoon was beyond great.
I want more of that.
Day three starts with the Boy piling into me at three in the morning. He does this most mornings, but usually right before it's time to wake up for the day. But three in the morning means I've got hours of potential sleep and I want them. Having a small person knee me in the back drops my odds something fierce - so I bail out and sleep in his bed.
Musical beds is a thing in our house - having apnea means I should move my CPAP machine to the boy's room to truly sleep - but I'm too tired and crabby to think straight.
Morning rolls around and I'm hoarse from snoring (no CPAP) and I'm groggy as hell. E goes to shower and I loll in bed until I hear the Boy moving around. He's coming up the stairs, having gone down to look for breakfast and struck out - no parents - so he's back in our bed.
And it's time to get up - dammit. I'm up and fumbling downstairs - E's going to work and the kids are going to school and the least I can be is useful.
I'll get a day of cafe sitting and prepping for my new job - I need to get some paperwork in and get a haircut. What will I do with the other free time? Whoo hoo!
But the Boy is complaining that he is sick. He doesn't have a fever, but he's lolling around like he's dying. He has a way of dramatizing it to the point of parody.
I'm determined to get him moving. I push, pull threaten and berate to the point where it's clear I'm doing this for my benefit.
E's giving me the look - and it's then I know day three is on the ropes.
The Boy is inconsolable that he's too sick for school and for going over to his friend's house later. He's really upset that his dad isn't listening to him. "I want to stay home!"
Day three of leisure is done. I give in and tell him to stay on the couch. I'll sit with you.
As E and little e are heading out, the Boy's irritation with me makes him reverse course. Now he's insisting on going to school. Now he's angry that I won't let him go. "You never listen to me!"
But I am listening. The Boy needs someone to pay attention to him. Now. He's had it up to here with the day and it's past time that somebody noticed.
I let him lean on me and put my arm on his shoulder and just sit with him until he calms down. We fire up a Mythbusters and he tucks under a blanket and relaxes. The boy feels like crap, and he finally feels that his dad notices. His relief is almost audible.
If this was a movie, we'd have a bonding moment that changes the way we think of each other forever, but mostly we just hung out together. I'm out of practice - and it'll be slow work to get our conversations back to conversing instead of "chew with your mouth closed" or "go get dressed."
But it was a good day, nonetheless.
*******
E felt bad that the day off came to this and offered to do the evening with the kids. I went out to eat all excited about lounging around like yesterday - but so far everything has been pantomime.
Not much point in pretending I'm a cafe denizen when I'm not. All the baked goods in this cafe would spike my glucose to the stratosphere. I've translated the essential PC shortcut keys to Mac - and I'm not going to learn Unix in a day. I'm not writing the next great American screenplay on my laptop and my ego can't enduring taking out the Missing Mac manual and reading that next to my spiffy new toy.
So what am I doing in a cafe alone at night, sans family?
I'm writing about how I should be at home.
So I'm going home.
'Night all
In preparation for the new job I've already laid out a good amount of cash. A new laptop. New software. The missing manual for each, because RTFM, right?
But it shook out that I would have three days between jobs. The new gig couldn't start me right after my old one started.
Three days! What would I do with myself? I came up with a laundry list of things I never get to do.
Chief among them was hanging out in a coffee shop and killing time over caffeinated beverages. Not big dreams, but something that seemed an unimaginable luxury.
Having time on my hands.
Any other day, there are projects to do, chores to be done, meals to be made or tedium to endure. But I would have three days to myself.
Well, two actually.
Turned out that my kids were out of school the day after Easter and it makes absolutely no sense for us to pay for day care or have E stay home when I'm unemployed and idle.
I make a day with the kids. That's a different kind of luxury. Most weekends will find E and I passed out on a couch somewhere while the kids glaze over the TV. But a weekday free with nothing on the schedule?
I plan to go to the airport restaurant. Not a generic one, but a local place that I've spent most of my exfil sessions lately. Little e loves the idea - so naturally the Boy hates it. Little e is sure that I'll take her side, but the Boy has been in such a foul humor lately that I decide to humor him. He picks the place - a decent one, too, a former gas station converted into a diner.
Little e screams her disapproval the entire way there.
Eventually, she calms down and we have a more or less pleasant meal. For some reason, the kids get to talking on art, and I remember a trip we took to a local art museum. The kids loved it. And - improbably - they like the idea now.
So we go.
Naturally, the museum is closed that day. So, instead of taking two excited kids to the museum, I end up with two crabby kids complaining about the weather and why they aren't at home.
I persevere and schlep them into a local library that is pretty scenic. It distracts them for about ten minutes and then they want to leave. So I seize on a poster advertising an exhibit on the Civil War. History!
It's on the fourth floor. So, we march up four flights of stairs - kids complaining the whole way - and discover the exhibit consists of six photographs on the wall and a poster.
Great.
With that, the kids announce that they want to go home. I still have two errands to run, but the kids have had it and I'm not in a mood to push it at this point. This is supposed to be a fun day and after lunch we'll try to go out again.
Home. Post lunch I'm trying to get the kids out the door and now the Boy's saying his stomach hurts too much to go out.
Seriously? But I have two things I need to do. The Boy has a science project coming up that needs copper wire and I have to mail something to E's sister. My hope that the Boy's project would inspire him to come along dies when the Boy announces that he hates his science project and doesn't want to do it anymore.
Arrgh.
We're doing this anyway. I drag, push, cajole and otherwise tiger-dad the two kids out to the car and each wails about how they just want to stay home.
But we're doing this. So I hit the post office first. The Boy wants to come with, the girl would rather stay in the car. Should be quick, so I'm good with that.
Soon as I hit the door, I see a line of a dozen people ahead of me. This will not be quick. But we wait, because we're here. The Boy is demonstrably in distress. Leaning and flopping over anything he can find. I am sick, SEE? he says without words - over and over.
We're six people from the counter when one of the three cashiers realizes their cash machine doesn't work. The person they're serving only has a debit card, and there is a great deal of delay while they sort out if this is an issue with each and every card this person has.
But no, it's the machine. I only have a debit card, too. So, three cashiers now drops to two for me and (apparently) most of the people in line.
For no apparent reason, the third cashier up and leaves - so now we have a single cashier for debit transactions.
Right when I'm the next person in line, the last machine goes down, too. I have no cash and this is now a wasted trip, but hey - at least I spent all that time in line hoping, right?
The Boy is flopped over a stack of postal forms, so I stand him upright and lead him out, telling everyone on the way out that the place is now cash only.
Back to the car. The Boy really seems in distress now. I'm wondering if he's about to be ill ('cos, y'know - I'm due, right?).
But we press on to the hardware store where both children announce that they will sit in the car while I run in for the copper wire.
Ah, the family outing. Hardware store is inexplicably free of the old guy, and all I need is three feet of wire. The sign on it imperiously warns that you MUST HAVE ASSISTANCE to cut the wire - so I spend ten minutes waiting behind some dork having a lengthy conversation with the lone old guy as if there is no other human being in the universe than them. And wasn't their story about porch lights just oh-so-riveting?
Gah.
I get my wire and catch a break when I remember that I can get cash back from the hardware checkout. The kids won't have to go to the bank before we go back to the post office.
Still, they complain about returning to the post office, because they're tired of being in the car. But I'm getting this done. So it's happening.
Both kids want to wait in the car this time. Little e offers to read Encyclopedia Brown to the Boy. The Boy tells her to shut up - because he knows all the stories already.
I run in and spend half of forever in line behind a stream of people - each of whom needs, REALLY needs to hear a detailed explanation of why the registers aren't accepting credit or debit cards today.
But I get the package paid for and we're done. And I can't get them home fast enough.
*******
That was my first day off.
Second day's morning was soaked up by a visit to the diabetic nurse. I'm behind on my check ins with her. Should have had an appointment last year and didn't. There's a certain amount of reproach in this meeting but I don't care.
About a week ago I was working out with the Penguin and I clearly overdid it. Became dizzy, unable to think and had to sit down. I briefly passed out and came to as the Penguin propped me up.
So I was happy to be at an appointment for once. I wanted answers. The previous week, I had a stress EKG and it came back normal - so I'm wondering if there is something that the diabetic experts could tell me about why I got all screwed up.
When I was all fally-downy at the gym, I assumed I was having a Low- the boogeyman of diabetics. Blood sugar drops below 70 and suddenly your brain decides to start short circuiting. But I tested my levels at the gym and I was high - over 140. So I didn't know what the hell.
The diabetic nurse had no answers for me, though. Everyone's different, she says. She bounces a few questions off me about what else might have contributed to my dizzy spell - but nothing sticks.
She tells me my historical levels are looking good and that I'm doing well in other aspects. She'll schedule a follow up with me for six months and - thanks for checking in.
Day and a half of my three days gone.
The afternoon I've already posted about - how great it was to kick back and play cafe poser - and how the murphy's law tried to screw me.
But day two's afternoon was beyond great.
I want more of that.
*******
Day three starts with the Boy piling into me at three in the morning. He does this most mornings, but usually right before it's time to wake up for the day. But three in the morning means I've got hours of potential sleep and I want them. Having a small person knee me in the back drops my odds something fierce - so I bail out and sleep in his bed.
Musical beds is a thing in our house - having apnea means I should move my CPAP machine to the boy's room to truly sleep - but I'm too tired and crabby to think straight.
Morning rolls around and I'm hoarse from snoring (no CPAP) and I'm groggy as hell. E goes to shower and I loll in bed until I hear the Boy moving around. He's coming up the stairs, having gone down to look for breakfast and struck out - no parents - so he's back in our bed.
And it's time to get up - dammit. I'm up and fumbling downstairs - E's going to work and the kids are going to school and the least I can be is useful.
I'll get a day of cafe sitting and prepping for my new job - I need to get some paperwork in and get a haircut. What will I do with the other free time? Whoo hoo!
But the Boy is complaining that he is sick. He doesn't have a fever, but he's lolling around like he's dying. He has a way of dramatizing it to the point of parody.
I'm determined to get him moving. I push, pull threaten and berate to the point where it's clear I'm doing this for my benefit.
E's giving me the look - and it's then I know day three is on the ropes.
The Boy is inconsolable that he's too sick for school and for going over to his friend's house later. He's really upset that his dad isn't listening to him. "I want to stay home!"
Day three of leisure is done. I give in and tell him to stay on the couch. I'll sit with you.
As E and little e are heading out, the Boy's irritation with me makes him reverse course. Now he's insisting on going to school. Now he's angry that I won't let him go. "You never listen to me!"
But I am listening. The Boy needs someone to pay attention to him. Now. He's had it up to here with the day and it's past time that somebody noticed.
I let him lean on me and put my arm on his shoulder and just sit with him until he calms down. We fire up a Mythbusters and he tucks under a blanket and relaxes. The boy feels like crap, and he finally feels that his dad notices. His relief is almost audible.
If this was a movie, we'd have a bonding moment that changes the way we think of each other forever, but mostly we just hung out together. I'm out of practice - and it'll be slow work to get our conversations back to conversing instead of "chew with your mouth closed" or "go get dressed."
But it was a good day, nonetheless.
*******
E felt bad that the day off came to this and offered to do the evening with the kids. I went out to eat all excited about lounging around like yesterday - but so far everything has been pantomime.
Not much point in pretending I'm a cafe denizen when I'm not. All the baked goods in this cafe would spike my glucose to the stratosphere. I've translated the essential PC shortcut keys to Mac - and I'm not going to learn Unix in a day. I'm not writing the next great American screenplay on my laptop and my ego can't enduring taking out the Missing Mac manual and reading that next to my spiffy new toy.
So what am I doing in a cafe alone at night, sans family?
I'm writing about how I should be at home.
So I'm going home.
'Night all
Tuesday, April 02, 2013
The Gods of Irony are Swift and Merciless
Not two minutes after I published my last post, I smugly walked out of the cafe to discover my car had a dead battery.
...and I was between two parked cars...
...so my jumper cables could reach no passing motorists...
...and I was late to meet Sensei and the Artist.
But I found a willing helper who was willing to push my car back so I could connect the jumpers....
...but my car refused to come out of park.
-Really, you have to admire the creative sadism of the irony gods.
You thought you'd be happy, but now...
My Samaritan leaves, so my only choice is to find the owner of one of the two cars that bookend me.
It takes canvassing two nearby businesses, but I find the owner of the car on my right.
He agrees to give me the jump and if all goes well, I can still make lunch.
We connect the cables, and nothing.
Not even a turn from my car.
In desperation, we reset the cables again.
Still nothing.
I try calling Sensei. No luck.
My cables have side pull extensions, which make normal connections worse.
I reseat the connections a third time and start thinking about running to lunch. It's about a ten minute run...
And the car starts.
Psyche!
I thank the man and bolt.
Sensei and the Artist are waiting, and lunch is awesome. They are such great people- and we swap stories of CorpWorld like veterans do.
Nice try, Irony- but I beat you this time. Yeah, they needed to jump my car after lunch - and I'm stuck in Sears dropping $100 on a battery, but you can't stop today from being great.
I met with the old gang and my smile is immune to anything else.
Boo yah.
...and I was between two parked cars...
...so my jumper cables could reach no passing motorists...
...and I was late to meet Sensei and the Artist.
But I found a willing helper who was willing to push my car back so I could connect the jumpers....
...but my car refused to come out of park.
-Really, you have to admire the creative sadism of the irony gods.
You thought you'd be happy, but now...
My Samaritan leaves, so my only choice is to find the owner of one of the two cars that bookend me.
It takes canvassing two nearby businesses, but I find the owner of the car on my right.
He agrees to give me the jump and if all goes well, I can still make lunch.
We connect the cables, and nothing.
Not even a turn from my car.
In desperation, we reset the cables again.
Still nothing.
I try calling Sensei. No luck.
My cables have side pull extensions, which make normal connections worse.
I reseat the connections a third time and start thinking about running to lunch. It's about a ten minute run...
And the car starts.
Psyche!
I thank the man and bolt.
Sensei and the Artist are waiting, and lunch is awesome. They are such great people- and we swap stories of CorpWorld like veterans do.
Nice try, Irony- but I beat you this time. Yeah, they needed to jump my car after lunch - and I'm stuck in Sears dropping $100 on a battery, but you can't stop today from being great.
I met with the old gang and my smile is immune to anything else.
Boo yah.
Now I am Become Hipster
When you're looking to make a statement, picking a venue stocked with the self absorbed is probably unwise.
But, y'know - screw it.
Took a long while to get to this point, and the roots go back farther than I realized.
I guess it started with an article on Wired. Something about that Temple bag stuck in my mind - but good. Now granted, I was never going to blow $500 on a stinking bag, but this was all about the idea.
I mean, I work in design. The ass-end, boring side of it to be sure. But there's this idea that if I'm supposed to be making things that are awesome, I should try to surround myself with some of that.
The Temple bag was all the poser crap writ large. You see, they build them out of surplus WWII duffel bags and (if you believe their video) are assembled by male models using a vintage sewing machine in some old loft apartment.
Y'know, because - bullshit.
But If I'm honest, that's where this idea got started. A cool bag, full of technical toys that will be my personal Bat Utility Belt.
Y'know, because I fight crime.
Anyway, ages ago, I got a license to shop on ThinkGeek.com and I stuck a toe in the water. Got me a Bag of Holding because it's a bag I can relate to on several levels. Next birthday, I bought a bluetooth keyboard for my phone, got the BookBook iPhone case from TwelveSouth and had a few trial runs at a local diner.
But it was not the full blown experience. The keyboard fit in my coat pocket, so I really didn't need to bring the bag. And there is a sad truth about wireless keyboard accessories - the sweet spot for use is a lot smaller than you might think.
For a mobile device, most times it's enough to type a quick reply with your thumbs. Unless you plan to write an epic email, getting out the bluetooth keyboard, syncing it up (and dealing the with odd stuck key moment) is a lot of hassle to support the edge case use.
Plus typing on a portable keyboard to support a iPhone sized screen looks (and feels) a bit dorky. I did manage to write some worthy emails to family, but my idealized blogging on my phone was sabotaged by Blogger's crap mobile UI. I can only write in HTML? and your autosave always tells me my tags aren't closed? F- you Google.
So meh. A failed attempt. But I was never going to get there - I'm not buying a pen sized document scanner anyway. Especially when all the reviews talk about how its construction is so lousy.
But I got an iPad mini and its BookBook case and tried again. A worthy combination, and to any iPad types out there, I totally recommend the iPad BookBook. Solid case, stylish and very functional. If it had a spot to store earbuds it would be even better, but I can deal.
Still not the full blown jet-setting UX poser look I was gunning for.
But now the new gig wants me to work on a Mac, so I've bought the Mac. And it fits in the Bag of Holding, nicely - thank you.
I'm between jobs for today at least, and so I'm in a - gasp - Starbucks, making a full on poser out of myself. I'm re-connecting with Sensei and the Artist, 'cos they're awesome, and nothing to do but...
Whip out the laptop. I think I'll blog a bit - like you do.
A latte? What?
Don't mind if I do.
I might even push up my shades, slap some earbuds in and spool up the iPhone.
"Play Song - 'South Tacoma Way.'"
And there it is.
Blogging in a cafe on my laptop. The caffeine's wailing on my synapses and Neko's crushing it
I'm part of the ambient cafe vibe.
But if the me of two years ago walked in right now he'd take one look at the now me and think.
I hate you so very very much. How are you sitting here on a weekday? Why don't you get a job?
And they'd have a point, and in a day or so - I will get a job, and go back to being responsible. I'll put all the iToys back in the bag and resume being a person who does useful things and could give a flying F*$% about what vibe they're throwing off.
A month ago I was a desperate wreck of a man.
But today, I get to while away some time in a cafe like some pain in the ass youngster.
I so love today.
But, y'know - screw it.
Took a long while to get to this point, and the roots go back farther than I realized.
I guess it started with an article on Wired. Something about that Temple bag stuck in my mind - but good. Now granted, I was never going to blow $500 on a stinking bag, but this was all about the idea.
I mean, I work in design. The ass-end, boring side of it to be sure. But there's this idea that if I'm supposed to be making things that are awesome, I should try to surround myself with some of that.
The Temple bag was all the poser crap writ large. You see, they build them out of surplus WWII duffel bags and (if you believe their video) are assembled by male models using a vintage sewing machine in some old loft apartment.
Y'know, because - bullshit.
But If I'm honest, that's where this idea got started. A cool bag, full of technical toys that will be my personal Bat Utility Belt.
Y'know, because I fight crime.
Anyway, ages ago, I got a license to shop on ThinkGeek.com and I stuck a toe in the water. Got me a Bag of Holding because it's a bag I can relate to on several levels. Next birthday, I bought a bluetooth keyboard for my phone, got the BookBook iPhone case from TwelveSouth and had a few trial runs at a local diner.
But it was not the full blown experience. The keyboard fit in my coat pocket, so I really didn't need to bring the bag. And there is a sad truth about wireless keyboard accessories - the sweet spot for use is a lot smaller than you might think.
For a mobile device, most times it's enough to type a quick reply with your thumbs. Unless you plan to write an epic email, getting out the bluetooth keyboard, syncing it up (and dealing the with odd stuck key moment) is a lot of hassle to support the edge case use.
Plus typing on a portable keyboard to support a iPhone sized screen looks (and feels) a bit dorky. I did manage to write some worthy emails to family, but my idealized blogging on my phone was sabotaged by Blogger's crap mobile UI. I can only write in HTML? and your autosave always tells me my tags aren't closed? F- you Google.
So meh. A failed attempt. But I was never going to get there - I'm not buying a pen sized document scanner anyway. Especially when all the reviews talk about how its construction is so lousy.
But I got an iPad mini and its BookBook case and tried again. A worthy combination, and to any iPad types out there, I totally recommend the iPad BookBook. Solid case, stylish and very functional. If it had a spot to store earbuds it would be even better, but I can deal.
Still not the full blown jet-setting UX poser look I was gunning for.
But now the new gig wants me to work on a Mac, so I've bought the Mac. And it fits in the Bag of Holding, nicely - thank you.
I'm between jobs for today at least, and so I'm in a - gasp - Starbucks, making a full on poser out of myself. I'm re-connecting with Sensei and the Artist, 'cos they're awesome, and nothing to do but...
Whip out the laptop. I think I'll blog a bit - like you do.
A latte? What?
Don't mind if I do.
I might even push up my shades, slap some earbuds in and spool up the iPhone.
"Play Song - 'South Tacoma Way.'"
And there it is.
Blogging in a cafe on my laptop. The caffeine's wailing on my synapses and Neko's crushing it
It's the twilight of our old home...Yeah, I'm shaved and mostly cleaned up, but I'm about as hip as I am capable of becoming. A look around confirms that nobody else around me knows I'm alive.
I'm part of the ambient cafe vibe.
But if the me of two years ago walked in right now he'd take one look at the now me and think.
I hate you so very very much. How are you sitting here on a weekday? Why don't you get a job?
And they'd have a point, and in a day or so - I will get a job, and go back to being responsible. I'll put all the iToys back in the bag and resume being a person who does useful things and could give a flying F*$% about what vibe they're throwing off.
A month ago I was a desperate wreck of a man.
But today, I get to while away some time in a cafe like some pain in the ass youngster.
We've memories for matineesFuckin' brilliant.
And the tears come warm and heavy
And the cross streets bear your name.
I so love today.
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