10 years later...

So now it's 2020, and I'm stuck at home. As are many people around the world as we all try to avoid spreading the corona virus. It's been a bit over two weeks for me. I went home early on Monday, March 23rd. We didn't have any work and our production manager was telling us to go home under those circumstances. Earlier I had volunteered for temporary lay-off. Business is way slow and it was one of the strategies that Yoyodine had for surviving this crisis. (Yes, I'm still at Yoyodine. My low level of ambition hasn't changed.) Noddles is making more than I am and, between that and the savings, we can survive a financial hit. Our production manager, John Cousteau, said nothing would be decided until the end of the week. I didn't stop to think that he was only speaking of decisions at Yoyodine.

Monday afternoon, the governor issued his stay at home order. All non-essential businesses will close and they have 48 hours to comply. Oh, well. I emailed John Cousteau and asked him if I should bother coming either Tuesday or Wednesday. I didn't know what work had to get out or what they wanted us to do to shut things down. (I did know that I wanted to come in and fetch the book I was reading over lunch, but I digress...) He replied that Yoyodine was an essential business and would remain open, but I didn't need to come in. I read that as meaning he would prefer me to stay home, so I did. Weird. I gave him a call on Wednesday afternoon to see what he wanted me to do next. This time he officially told me to stay home. I was now laid off--well, I think he said "furloughed", since they want me back--but that Yoyodine still needed to set things up with the state unemployment office. He said he'd contact me with more details before the 1st.

So now I'm home all day. In considering finding new employment (Details on that in another post on another day), I realized that I should be doing some self improvement. I've worked on my html/css skills, started an exercise routine, and now I'm practicing my writing skills. Whether any of these small efforts will bear much fruit is unlikely. But it has to be better than playing another hand of solitaire.

Labels: change, current events, life, work, writing

I'm facing a dilemma this evening: Do I spend my own money to benefit my employer or not? The situation is that my boss, John Emdall, recently asked me to redesign the company's website. The current Yoyodyne site is a fancy-schmancy APX thing that's getting out of date. John Emdall wants a new site, not too complicated, but still nice looking. And cheap. He wants cheap. Hence his asking me, despite the fact that I have openly professed my limited skills. Anyhoo, he had used a demo of the program Artisteer on his PC to make a nice looking page. I brought the html and attendant documents over to my Mac and started messing with it. I was able to figure out enough of Adobe Dreamweaver to add some graphics, alter the menus, and plug our online ordering site into a window. Pleased with myself, I submitted the template page for his review.

A few hours later, John Emdall informed me that Internet Explorer had taken it upon itself not to display the graphics. Actually, what he said was more along the lines of, "It's not working." It was left to me to discover what exactly was screwed up. Putting the blame on Explorer was pretty easy. Figuring out how to fix it has been a challenge. I spent a good chunk of yesterday figuring out how Artisteer created its page with CSS. I never did quite reach the point where I figured what items Explorer was ignoring and how to work around it. One thing I blame is my reference book, HTML 4 for the World Wide Web by Elizabeth Castro. It's a great book, but it's 2000 vintage, and I wonder if it's not a trifle too old for what I need.

So, to come to my main point, I'm debating whether to go out and buy the most recent edition of Ms. Castro's book. I did a search and found that I could pick up a copy at Barnes & Noble for around thirty bucks. Much more than I like to spend on a book, but it might prove useful not only to my personal playing on the web, but also in my unofficial role as "web designer". On the other hand, since this would be primarily to benefit Yoyodyne, why should I be spending my own money? Might it not be wiser to present the boss with the decision to invest in the book, or better yet, hire someone whose competent?
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Update: Of course, the deciding factor was, which choice would allow me to browse in the bookstore? I managed to snag a copy of the book at Half Price Books for ten bucks.

Labels: books, computer, life, work

(Written on Saturday, posted on... Wednesday? I've gotta manage my time better.)
Heh. Yesterday at work I got to install Adobe Creative Suite 4 on my Mac. One of our customers has upgraded, hence it was time for us to do so as well. So at 7:30 am, when I determined that I could not open the mysterious InDesign file they had sent, I started the installation. Foolish lad that I am, I went and installed the entire suite instead of first installing only the application I needed. Over six hours later, it was done. I probably slowed the process up by continuing to do work on the computer while the installer ran in the background. For that reason, I suppose that I'm better off than years past, when I'd have to sit and swap floppy disks in order to install new software. But... six hours? Sheesh!

(Oh, and I began this post with a chuckle because once the installation had finished. I immediately opened the provided file. It was three lines of text destined for a one color label. If I had a pdf or even a hard copy or that file I could have typeset it scores of times in the time I was waiting. Gotta love it.)

Labels: computers, work

I was planning on writing about this catalog we got celebrating "beautiful girlhood" among other things, but work has gotten in the way. Rather than working a couple of hours last night, I figured I'd go in today and put in a half day. Well, first my work took longer than I thought, so I expanded that half day to six hours, then we had a emergency fix that involved a recalcitrant film processor and I ended up staying past the 10-hour mark. So now I'm to tired to write. So maybe I'll dissect the catalog some other day. I'm bound to get that desperate for a post topic again before the month is out.

Labels: blogging, work

Okay, so I promised the tale of online ordering at Yoyodyne. Let me first explain the situation at our shop. There's two of us pre-press guys that make up the art department of our shop. John Silver is the lead operator because a) he's been there longer, b) he has a wider range of experience with computers, traditional lithography and print shops, and c) he cares a lot more about the job than I do. Most of the time I'm quite content to toil in his shadow, but from time to time I do feel a tinge of envy. I am the lesser employee when compared to him, but I'm not without my own skills and years of experience. There are times when I wish the powers that be would come and ask me to take on a project* rather than always run to him.

Be careful what you wish for, eh? A number of weeks ago, I started overhearing the bosses talking to John Silver about some web design project. Seems that John Emdall had bought into some online ordering service, MyOrderDesk, that one can have customized for one's own company. Or one's customers. Now, at Yoyodyne we always look for a cheaper solution--used equipment, older software, using all available manpower when needed. So rather than having the dudes at MOD design our site, they were asking John Silver to draw upon his computer expertise and create the skins we'd need for the order site. In addition to his other duties, of course. So, J.S. tries his hand at it and ran into a roadblock. He just couldn't get a handle on how to dig into the site and set up the things he needed. He tried to tell the powers that what they were asking for wasn't possible. They were telling him that it certainly was. (The MyOrderDesk salesmen told them so, after all.) I only overheard about 75% of these discussions, but for whatever reason I started to think that if I had the chance to take a stab at it, I could possibly break thorough where J.S. was getting hung up. After all, I've changed the fonts and colors on many of my Blogger templates.

Anyway, two weeks ago I got my chance. I had been asked if I had any web experience and I mentioned that I had done some basic html. So they asked me to take a stab at it. After doing some poking, I discovered that once again John Silver knew what he was talking about. The powers were envisioning a site that would seamlessly link to a customer's site, taking on all the design elements and delivering full functionality. Well, that was possible, but only if you buy a package for each customer. Our single site could be fully customized, but we'd have to pick which customer to flatter. To my credit, I did make a bit more headway into manipulating the site, but then again, I also had less daily crises to tend to. I reported my findings to the powers and after some consultation with the pros at My Order Desk, we all came up with a plan wherein we'll drop the MOD window into customized pages that will be hosted at our site. We'll pay the MOD folks to create our first page and then John Silver and I will start creating the versions for our variety of customers.

Of course, this is going to take a lot of work. In addition to making it look pretty, we have to set up the various forms and databases for each customer, as well as altering our current workflow to make use of the service. This is all unscheduled work, which means that the sales people will be screaming for it while the production manager will be screaming for the paying jobs. Ah, well. So far it's proving to be an intriguing challenge, as well as another item to add on the resume.
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*Yeah, I know. I'm the company FSC dude. I sent that ball into John Emdall's court and haven't heard about it in weeks. I've a feeling that'll be on the back burner until a customer starts inquiring about it again.

Labels: life, web, work

Not much to comment on today. 'Twas a typical Friday rush at work. I managed to slog through my stack of work and have ten whole minutes left over to work on our new online order system. (Did I mention the online order system? No, I didn't. Maybe I'll get to that tomorrow.) I also skipped my regular breaks, instead working my daily blog and comics check in between sundry tasks. One item of local interest was a discussion about this post on the Beacon Hill Blog. When Wendi asked people to list the things they liked about Beacon Hill (in a previous post), she got nice, positive responses. When she asked about things to improve, well, that started to generate controversy. When your looking to clean up the 'hood, you will invariably try to get rid of someone's sacred cow.

Labels: BeaconHill, commentary, work

I call my daughter a drama queen, but after yesterday, I have to think she comes by it naturally. Actually it started Tuesday night. Just before heading to bed, I discovered that I had an e-mail from Buster, my old boss at Wombatsch. It was very straightforward--we want to hire you now because were drowning in work. My first reaction was, "Crap. Why now?" You see, a number of weeks ago when I was facing my tenuous finances and inadequate salary, a mail like this would be a sign from God. I had decided that even though my current job seemed heaven sent, it was probably time to move on to something that paid better. Of course, after a few discussions with Noodles, that included the idea that I start moonlighting, we decided the best idea might be for her to start easing back into the workforce. So she's been applying and interviewing for a number of part time teaching positions. She's grown to like the idea and really wants to begin working on her second, er, third career. (Or is it fourth? Nah, she never used her first degree. Not professionally, anyway.)

So now this job offer turns up. We still could use the money, because for all of Noodles' efforts, she isn't pulling in any income yet. Work at Yoyodyne has been rather slow and boring, and going back to Wombatsch would mean more challenging work, even if I get hired as just another grunt in the catalog department. On the other hand, there is that commute out to Eastside. And it would probably mean a switch to second shift. Oh, yeah, and I dimly recall being quite dissatisfied with the place some three, four years ago. I figured I'd wrestle with all this overnight and give Buster a call on Wednesday afternoon. As an afterthought, I decided to ask Noodles if she had any thoughts on the matter. Surprisingly enough, she did.

While she liked the idea of a higher salary as much as I did, she was less tempted to have me make the change. A second shift job out on the Eastside essentially ties me to the car. That would tie her hands if and when she manages to find a teaching gig. Plus the whole reason for her embarking on the job search was to bring in extra income. If she starts bringing in money, that reduces my need to chase a higher salary. Noodles also cross-examined my boredom with Yoyodyne. Even as I explained my ennui, I realized that the excitement of a job change would be fleeting at best. (Overtime, however, springs eternal.)

So after a half hour or so of conversation, I headed to bed. Come the morn, my attraction to Wombatsch had pretty much vanished. My mind no longer whirled with pros and cons--rather my thoughts were awash in the dread of having to actually tell someone "no". Actually, I wasn't quite 100% on the side of refusal yet. I figured I should see what the day brought while the question simmered on the back burner. Give God some time to give me a divine revelation and all that. When I got to work I shot off a quick reply to Buster to tell him that I was thinking about it. When I later peeked at my personal e-mail, I saw that he had sent a quick, hopeful response. This caused the pot on my back burner to boil over and fill my brain with the aromas of anxiety. I ran through all sorts of scenarios, thinking of what excuses I could give and what kind of arguments I might have to fend off. Buster was quite explicit about the need at Wombatsch. What if he asked me to moonlight? I had to double check the employee manual to confirm that it was forbidden. I even had the (fleeting) idea that maybe he could contact my current boss-man, John Emdall, and set up some sort of sub-contractor situation where I could do Wombatsch work for a Yoyodyne paycheck. I so dearly wanted to help out! To offer some sort of hope or comfort as I so callously served my self interest and refused the job, after stringing poor Buster along for all these hours.

Eventually my shift ended and it was time to make the call. Oddly enough, my day was quite busy--including a job that gave my layout muscles a stretch. Was this the heavenly sign I sought? I doubt it, but I decided to turn Buster down anyway. When I reached home, I screwed in my courage... or is that screwed up? Whatever the metaphor, I made the stupid phone call. Part of me was hoping for a voice mail, but I was fully ready for a voice-to-voice conversation. Good thing, too, since Buster was at his desk and answering his phone. Following his example, I got straight to the point and told him I was turning him down. Buster said something along the lines of, "Oh, well, it didn't hurt to ask." Then he asked how things were going. I stammered out that things were okay. He made a joking reference to my fainting spell, and I recounted my only near encounter. He again asked how I was doing and I again couldn't say more than "okay". A sales pitch I was ready for; small talk threw me off guard. Buster then stated that I was always welcome to try to re-apply at Wombatsch and then got back to work. I hung up the phone relieved and feeling a bit foolish.

In retrospect, I think I should have known better. When it comes to the busy season at work, Buster's correspondence has always verged on hyperbole. Back when he was asking everyone to work "as much as they can stand", I'm sure he expected that many folks would only be able to stand an hour or two of overtime. Likewise when he said they needed me to come work, he knew it was a long shot. I, on the other hand, take his messages too darn seriously. Ah, well. It's nice to know that I'm wanted, even if folks can live without me just fine.

Labels: life, marital discussion, money, Wombatsch, work

One thing that happened during my hiatus is that I was appointed to guide Yoyodyne into the wonderful world of FSC certification. Now if you're like me, when you first read that, you asked yourself, "What the heck is FSC?" You could, like me, start to do a Google search, but I'll save you the trouble and tell you that "FSC" stands for the Forest Stewardship Council. (I mention this not because I'm a helpful guy, but rather to prevent anyone from thinking that I'm working on First Satanic Church certification.) Of course, it took me quite awhile to figure that out. When I searched for "FSC certified Seattle" I got a bunch of hits about lumber and forests. I figured I must have misheard what my boss said and so searched for "FSE certified Seattle". That just got me info on field service engineers and fire safety equipment. Fortunately, this all happened towards the end of the workday, so I could leave work and forget about it. The next day I was able to dig once more and this time was able to find a webpage from a local printing company that was bragging about its own certification and thereby unravel the mystery.

The whole FSC certification thing is a movement to label well managed forests and their products, so that environmentally conscious consumers can vote with their dollars. To put their green behind the green, so to speak. Some of the sites I visited speak of it all in glowing terms of social responsibility and all that. Unfortunately, the term "boondoggle" also kept cropping up in my mind as I was reading. If your company is FSC certified, that means that you've paid a few grand to have the official agencies check out your workflows and come by occasionally to do an audit. You certainly don't need certification to produce printed products with paper from well managed forests. But in that case, all your customer has is your word that their print jobs are green. An FSC certified company, on the other hand, can affix an FSC label on their products, so that their customers can take FSC's word that the printing is good to the environment. (Well, the paper part, anyway.)

Ah, well, such is life in our modern age. Hopefully we can jump through the appropriate hoops and our customers will send their socially responsible dollars our way.

Labels: commentary, work

Well, my new boss, John Emdall, has failed to fulfill his promise to tend to our raises by the end of February. In the one month since he took ownership of Yoyodyne, all he seems to have done is rearrange the shop floor, paint the pressroom walls and give lots of tours. So far I've met John's mother, his kids, his sister and her husband, and one of his cousins as they've toured the building. (I also met his wife, but that was at the old boss' retirement party.) Actually, I'm not really dissatisfied. He's also given tours to some potential customers and has said very complimentary things about us when he's passed through. And he makes a point to greet us every morning. Work is pretty good, really. Still, a raise would be nice. Um, that's assuming I was going to get a raise. I suppose there is a chance that John Emdall did tend to the raises and I just didn't rate. That would explain why the guys keep wanting to go out to lunch every other Friday....

Labels: life, work

I know, I'm a couple of days early, but odds are I wouldn't find the time to blog in those two days. I'm a bit surprised that I managed to find time today. Interesting how much my blogging seems to spring as much from the time to write as it does from the desire to write. Ah, well. Anyway, during the past week or so, there were a few things that I wanted to blog about, so I should just write down the short versions.
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The last weblogger's meetup gave me the incentive to update the old blogroll. One interesting addition is My Shrapnel, where Gila is posting various writings dealing with her survival of a suicide bombing. Gila's a good writer regardless of the topic, but when she's recounting something so compelling as this, she's fascinating.
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A link at Unshelved led me to this blog, where I discovered this post about comic book super-heroes. All I can say is that Eric Burns has perfectly captured my own feelings on the matter.
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I got another e-mail from Bloatmeal the other week, asking me if I was ready to switch jobs yet. Surprisingly enough, I felt a moment or two of temptation. Those higher paychecks and benefits were nice to have. Of course, once I started recalling acid reflux and stress headaches and lack of sleep and corporate b.s. and all that, I had an easier time replying, "no."
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In a tangential vein, my current boss' last day is Thursday. The whole company is invited out to a dinner/retirement party after work. We're also taking up a collection for a farewell gift. I have to admit that I had a moment of resentment over that. He's the one selling out for big bucks, right? sigh. I can't believe I've gotten so stingy....
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I finished Season One of Stargate SG-1. It's so... American. Take the episode "Singularity", where the crew find out that the little girl they've rescued has a nuclear time bomb implanted inside her. A great bit of drama. If it were Farscape, the bomb would have exploded and the crew's anguish and sorrow would have played out over a number of episodes. Instead we get a bomb that magically defuses and dissolves away once the child ventures far enough away from the stargate. Not very satisfying television. Ruminator is right--I should be seeking out the new Battlestar Galactica.
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I had a busy Saturday: a Bible class, a memorial gathering and a program on making comics. The memorial was for Anita Rowland. It was nice to hear again how wonderful a person she was. She truly deserved to be loved by as many folks as she was. (Or should I say "as she is", since that affection hasn't gone away.) It did feel a bit weird being there, though. I really didn't know her all that well, and her friends and family even less. I kind of slipped in late for the program and then slipped out early during the socializing. I felt like a ghost mourner, come to pay my respects.
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Regarding the comics program, it did give me an idea for a creative endeavor. One of the presenters, David Lasky, gave a workshop on mini-comics, where we were supposed to create our own. While throwing out starter ideas, he wrote down the title "My Most Embarrassing Moment". It occurred to me that a mini-comic might be just the vehicle to tell the tale of my most embarrassing moment in China. It's something that takes up many pages in my writing steno book, but might be able to be condensed into a short, illustrated tale. Of course, if I don't have time to type in a blog, when will I find time to illustrate a comic?

Labels: blogging, China, comics, life, money, TV, work

It's deja vu all over again. Back on January 2nd we had a state of the company meeting at work. The company, we were told, is for sale. Well, all but sold, actually. Some of my coworkers were quite shaken by the news. Me, I haven't been employed there long enough to be shaken. Besides, this is the fourth time I've been sold out. I've endured a buyout which didn't affect me in the least and one that gradually transformed the company into a Dilbert strip. I'm content to see what happens. I'm not expecting it too be too bad. My fellow pre-press grunt, however, is taking a more pessimistic wait-and-see stance. He's also a buyout veteran, but he's experienced layoffs and pay cuts. Of course, he seems to have endured a lot of grief from his past employers. Sometimes I have to wonder: Has he been exceptionally cursed? Or have I just been exceptionally blessed?

Anyway, this past week, we got to meet the new big kahuna. He seems nice enough. He's optimistic, but hasn't been promising a bright and wonderful future. For that I was grateful. If he started going on and on about how we're on the verge of some magnificent growth, I would have been combing the want ads. The only thing he did say that gave me pause was mentioning off-handedly about adding a second shift. As second pre-press banana, I guess I would be a prime candidate for a second shift position. The problem is, I'm enjoying having my evenings free. I'm not so sure I'd want to go back to the swing shift life. On the other hand, that would probably mean extra cash....

Labels: life, work

Aw, man. I don't know what to write about. I think I've been operating on a low level depression for the past few months. This has been the busy season at work, but it's nothing like the old job, with the constant requests for "as much overtime as you can stand". Of course, looking at my credit card bill--with charges for homeschool curriculum and Christmas presents--I think I'd welcome as much overtime as I can stand. I think I'm just one of those whiney-boys who's never satisfied.

Still, I got to make George W. Bush bald the other day. Much more satisfying that matching color on fine fashion or processing coffee posters. So why aren't I happy? Maybe defacing pictures of politicians isn't the source of true lasting happiness. Maybe I need to find something different. I wonder if it's too late to get in on that novel writing month thing....

Labels: silliness, whining, work

I suppose if I intend to go to the weblogger's meetup this month, I should actually blog. Anyway, I'd like to say I've been suffering from writer's block, but that implies a hindrance to a desire to write. I think what I've got is better termed writer's apathy. I really don't feel like I have anything to say. My life in America is boring and for the past few weeks I've embraced that destiny. (I've also watched a lot of TV--well, relatively speaking. I wonder what that indicates?)

Anyway, the title refers to my hands. At work we've printed a mess of fancy-schmancy Thanksgiving cards--a five paneled thing with a special die-cut to evoke autumn leaves. Anyway, everybody in the shop has been drafted to fold the flurshugginer things, so we can ship them off to the mailing company. Y'know, as a rich American, I've always assumed that machines handled all this drudge work. I guess you're never too old to learn about the real world.

Labels: life, work

I had an odd dream the other day. I went to work--at my old company, Bloatmeal. It wasn't really my old workplace, of course, but more like an odd dream version of the same. It was a very nice space, all carpeted and nicely furnished. The work stations were sort of set up like a classroom, with banks of three desks arranged in rows. For some reason, I had brought my wife along. She wanted to use one of the computers for some purpose. One of my erstwhile co-workers, Mike, was sitting by the door and he quickly arranged it so it looked like he was using the vacant computer next to him. This annoyed Noodles to no end, but I encouraged her to forget it and find another station. Then, out of the blue, I realized that I no longer worked there. "Oh, @#$#^$! I'm at the wrong job!" I exclaimed. With a sinking feeling, I realized that I should be at my new workplace and that there was no way I could make it back to South Seattle by 7:00. Then, mercifully, I woke up and discovered that I could go back to the sleep and make it to work in plenty of time.

Labels: dream, wife, work

I have a bad feeling that work is about to become intolerable. I haven't blogged much about Yoyodyne, but it is a pretty nice job. The work is relatively easy and the people are nice. So far I haven't been impressed into overtime, but folks warn me that the time is coming. On the other hand, it isn't the perfect workplace. I miss having hot water available for tea and they tend to be a bit stricter about extending one's lunchtime. The worst problem, however, is the sound pollution. I work in a room with another coworker who likes to play his radio during the day. What makes that pollution is that he plays KJR-FM. I think KJR must have at least 10,000 CDs in their library, 9990 of which are duplicates of particular Elton John and Billy Joel albums. I have actually been surprised at how much repetition and how little variety that station offers. I can't understand why people would tune in to listen to the same old stuff (some of it good, I admit) day after day after day after....

Anyway, it's bound to get worse. Today the DJ gleefully announced that Billy Joel is going to be playing in Seattle in November! Oh, joy. Now he'll get extra airplay so that the fans can build up the proper frenzy to welcome him to the Emerald City. Hopefully the Elton John fans won't feel slighted and start demanding comparable airtime for their favorite pianist. (See? It could always get worse...)

Labels: radio, whining, work

Okay. Must keep blogging. If I sit down and write I may get blessed with some inspiration. If I don't, well, I'll probably get more reading done. Hmmm. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe it's the season for silence and turning pages. "A time to blog, a time to read."..... nah.

Anyway, I suppose I should write about work. If you've read the background information--if that link even works--if you've read the background information, you've read that I work for a big bad corporation* that I dubbed "Wombatsch". Well, that's old news. I inquired about working for Wombatsch when I returned to the U.S., but they weren't hiring. If I wanted to wait, I might have gotten a call sooner or later, but I didn't have that luxury. I applied for a job off the NW Jobs website and--surprise!--got the job. I now work for a small printing company I'll call "Yoyodyne". The job offers less money and less benefits than my old one, but also a lot less of the corporate baggage. That makes me happy.

A good part of my day involves business cards. I'm the designated typesetter, so when a customer wants a new business card, I'm the guy who gets to enter the names and phone numbers. So far it's been interesting, seeing the different card designs and all that, but I'm sure that will wear off in time. Still, at least I can always look forward to typesetting some envelopes sooner or later.

That sounds rather pathetic, doesn't it? Oh, well. It's honest work and it pays the bills. (or at least I hope it does. I haven't pinned down an accurate budget yet. Gas prices have really gone up in the past two years....)

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* Actually, Wombatsch isn't really evil, it's just a big corporation. It's kind of like being a hobbit hanging around a giant. From the perspective of us little guys, a giant causes a lot of damage just by going through their daily routine. You've got to be careful that you don't get crushed.

Labels: mundanity, work