Ponderings and Musings

The Sounds In My Head.

I was a pretty young kid when I first noticed the ringing in my ears. It’s a constant sound that I hear and I’ve heard it since I was pretty young (pre-bunk beds, which means since I was in first grade or so). My left ear rings louder than my right, but luckily both ears ring at the same pitch. I would go crazy if the ringing was at two different notes. It’s really high pitched and it’s not a note that I can identify. Sometimes it feels like it’s coming from the middle of my head but aimed at my left ear.

I have noticed that over the past couple of months the ringing has gotten a little louder and a little more noticeable, especially when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I have to sleep with a fan on to provide white noise to mask the sound of the ringing in my ears or else it feels like the ringing is becoming overpowering as I start to drift off and then I get a little worked up about it. It’s loud enough where it can be distracting in overly quiet situations. Perhaps that’s why Earl has commented on more than one occasion that I have a tendency to fill in blank pauses during a conversation with my own brand of chatter. Perhaps that’s why I say “um” or “em” a lot between words.

I suppose that years of wearing headphones while I was on the radio and listening to music really loud as a club DJ (so I could seamlessly align the beats of dissimilar records) has taken it’s toll on my hearing. I’m saying “say again?” more than I used to. I know some folks find that annoying. I find it annoying. I try not to say it. I read lips more than I used to. I guess it’s part of the aging process.

A few years ago I went to an ear, nose and throat specialist to find out if there was anything that could be done about the ringing in my ears. He told me that there was little that he could do because that kind of thing is usually damage that can not be reversed. He offered to peel back my face and scrape around my sinuses if I wanted to. Apparently he had heard me make a sniffly noise that I didn’t notice. I declined the offer. That just sounded too weird.

I’m hoping that science will perfect that bionic hearing I’ve wanted since I was a kid before my natural hearing ability is completely interrupted by the constant whine in my ears. I’m not expecting a lot, just the ability to hear someone say my name from a half-mile away. The “doo doo doo doo” sound is completely optional.

The Iced Tea Robbery.

It’s a well known fact that I stop by the Dunkin’ Donuts closest to the workplace on a daily basis to pick up a large, unsweetened iced tea with lemon. The fine staff behind the counter are always pleasant and usually have my iced tea ready and waiting when I walk into the store. I like being served in this manner.

For the month of April, like every other Dunkin’ Donuts I have been to in the past year, they have charged $0.99 plus tax for this large unsweetened iced tea with lemon. There isn’t really much involved with making unsweetened iced tea; pour some hot water over tea bags, chill it to a non-hot temperature, add a lemon wedge and voila, it’s done.

Now that it is May, this particular Dunkin’ Donuts jacked the price back up to $2.69. The total for just an unsweetened iced tea with lemon today was $2.86 (including New York State Sales and Use Tax, otherwise known as legislated rape).

This does not make Daddy happy.

Now I like the folks that work at this Dunkin’ Donuts, so I didn’t get cranky about it, but when presented with the total for my large unsweetened iced tea with lemon ($2.86), I simply said, “every other Dunkin’ Donuts still charges $0.99 plus tax.” The pleasant girl responded with, “we know, but none of us know why we don’t.”

It’s because the franchise owner is a greedy bastard. I don’t care if my cup says “Men In Black 3!” on the side with matching straw, I don’t care if my tea was selected by scantily clad virgins that were dancing in the moonlight and then brewed with ambrosiac water that had been boiled by a volcano. The fact of the matter is, it’s tea leaves, add water, stir and voila.

Now, the McDonalds across the street offers any sized unsweetened iced tea with lemon for $0.99. The problem is, it’s handed out in a styrofoam cup (the gift that gives for generations) and let’s face it, you can’t trust anything that is claimed to be suitable consumption when it’s coming from a McDonalds. So I won’t do that.

I think I’m going to start bringing my own iced tea again and I’m going to skip my daily DD visit for a while. I’ll still go to every other Dunkin’ Donuts like I always do, but I’m crossing this one off the list.

The Dumping Ground Situation.

I’m pretty good at much my job*. I can say that with confidence because during my last annual review I noticed that I scored well on all the important parts and my numbers were all headed in a positive direction. That’s a good thing. It’s better to have high numbers on the review instead of high blood pressure numbers because that just leads to a fast track to the big cubicle in the sky. I’m not much of a cubicle person so we are trying to avoid that.

Because I’m good at my job and people like the work that I do (I build applications that make you go “woo!”), I tend to get a plethora of suggestions on how to make my applications even better. “Can we make this turn red when there’s an issue. Can you require that field to be filled in and pop up a warning when they do it wrong.” I get that sort of thing and since I’m the architect that builds to the needs of the occupant, I do my best to accommodate. It’s kind of what makes the career side of me tick.

The problem with all of this is that I have a hard time admitting that I’m going to need help on a project. I’m a bit of a control freak (surprise!) and while I love being part of a team that comes up with the direction of the project, I like being the one that builds the code. I have a vision, I usually have an idea of how that vision is going to be executed, and I like to be the one that executes it. For all of my career I’ve usually been the lone programmer or system administrator for a group, so it’s kind of weird for me to think that I might have to write code with someone else that has the same or comparable skill set as me. After all, loner tendencies + control freak = me. It’s simple math.

At nearly 44 years old I am trying to find a way to share my toys a little bit and to allow others to play in the sandbox with me. If I don’t do this, I’ll make myself insane, have some sort of fit and then go off and find another opportunity. In reality I don’t want to work for another company. I like what I do, I just need to find a way to be realistic of what I can handle and to let others help me out. I want to be the guy that’s really awesome at his job because he had it all under control and he bit off exactly what he could chew without spitting it out all over the audience. I don’t want to be the guy that they think is awesome because he’s spending 80 hours a week working. That’s not who I am. I want to be fueled by passion, not control freakiness.

I guess I need to make a concerted effort to manage these projects better. Something to ponder.

I do know that the cookie I just had made me feel a little bit better. Nom nom nom.

* Thank god I’m not a professional proofreader.

The Way to a Good Day.

I have been listening to political radio during my commutes for a while. I figured that as a responsible American, I should be well informed as to what is going on inside the Beltway and find out who is vying for the big chair in the Oval Office during the 2012 presidential elections.

I have decided that this contributed to what I now call “My Winter of Darkness”. Now granted, Earl and I had some stuff going on this past winter with the death of our fathers and I needed time to grieve properly and find my way through all of that. And heaping the chaos of Washington into the mix certainly didn’t help matters. At all.

So this morning I decided to go back to what I used to do, and that’s find a great song on the radio and to crank it up as I drove along the back roads to the office. My father never listened to talk radio. He read the newspaper, he watched news broadcasts, but he wasn’t a talk radio kind of guy. Before we had our first FM radio in the family vehicle, we listened to 62 WHEN, a Top 40 station out of Syracuse. Mom occasionally listened the local pickin’ and grinnin’ country station, but Dad always had WHEN turned on whenever he drove somewhere. It was a good radio station and listening to songs that I remember from that station remind me of sitting in the back seat of the ’71 Heavy Chevy we had. I think listening to radio back and forth to work, and everywhere else we went, contributed to my dad’s seemingly constant happiness.

I need to remember that.

So I listened to 70s on 7 on my way into work this morning and so far it has been a stellar day. I’m smiling, I’m trying to make the smile infectious and quite frankly, it feels much better than worrying about what political idiot is doing something politically asinine today.

The Increased Sanity Approach.

A couple of days ago, my internet friend Séan tweeted about an article that talked about 15 things you should do to make your life happier (or something like that). Here’s a link to the article.

The basic gist of the article is that we should stop worrying about what others think about us. Much of what we do that results in stressing ourselves out involves doing something that doesn’t resonate quite right because we are doing whatever we’re doing in order to make someone else happy because we are worried about what they think about us. (As a quick aside, I apologize to all of my English teachers in high school for the hideous syntax I just used to construct that sentence. I don’t think I left anything dangling but sometimes I write the way my brain processes something and we all know about the organized chaos I have up there).

Anyways, since reading that article, thinking about it and having a good discussion about it with Earl, I have come to the realization that it’s absolutely on target. I have made a conscious effort to not worry about what others may think about me in a variety of situations and it has markedly lowered my stress level. So I got a little more ‘ranty’ than usual on a conference call yesterday. I got my point across (using sentence construction much like that paragraph that precedes this one) and things are happening that need to be happening now on one of my work projects.

In all honesty, I wouldn’t be walking around with a mustache the size of a small country if I truly cared what people think about me, but there are some things here and there that I am self-conscious about and this has slowed me down and deterred my original path in the past. Dropping the charade of trying to impress and just doing my thing because it’s true to me has lowered my blood pressure and put a bigger smile on my face.

And if people notice a bigger smile, then they can share the happiness I’m feeling. And that’s always a good thing.

The Smiling Response.

So in an email exchange with Earl today I mentioned that the world feels like a better place when you smile and deliberately seek out a positive attitude. This has been my approach to the chaos littering my day today and so far it has been working brilliantly. Let’s hope this trend continues.

At work we have basically replaced all the tools that the technicians need to do their job. New phones, new monitoring systems, new ticketing system, all of it is new. It’s as if you picked up a 30 year veteran that ran the same cash register system at Ames for all those years and plopped behind a completely different cash register at Sears and told them to do their job. People are feeling disoriented and this makes them a little cranky.

Smile and the world smiles with you. Take it with a grain of salt. Frustration leads to folks saying things in the heat of the moment. Once you remember that, you can continue with your day and find a way to solve the problem at hand. This approach has been working for me.

I just keep smiling.

The Conversation Spin Agitation.

“The washer isn’t spinning!” Some would claim that I sounded hysterical, I but was just yelling over the sound of the washing machine endlessly tumbling our bed linens (doesn’t the song go, “I’m not talking about the linens and I don’t want to change your life”) while the display had showed 0:08 remaining for the past 35 minutes.

Our new washing machine has a bit of a feisty streak. In order to show off his full 1200 RPMs when he’s doing his spinning thing, things have to be perfectly aligned and balanced. And in this world of chaos, this last year of the Mayan calendar, apparently finding the perfect alignment and balance of two sheets, two pillow cases and a blanket is a very difficult thing to do. So instead of tweeting, beeping or sending a smoke signal (we didn’t go with the high end model of the washer), the washer just sits there tumbling at random speeds trying to shuffle the contents of the tub around until balance perfection can be achieved.

Perhaps we need to shove all of the politicians into a Speed Queen and push a button to restore balance inside the Beltway.

I digress.

Ok, perhaps I was slightly hysterical when I loudly declared (I don’t have all the options either) that the washer was stuck on 0:08 again. But the thing is, it’s my bed time. And in order for the bed sheets to be dry at a reasonable time, the washer has to fling them around at its full 1200 RPM in order for them to dry in the dryer at a reasonable speed. You see, I refuse to sleep in the cat’s discarded cat bed again. And we don’t talk about the litter box incident in our house.

After hauling the wet clothes out of the washer, rearranging them, waving some crystals in the direction of this tower of laundry apparatus and then doing a rapid hula dance as I pushed some buttons and made some encouraging whirring noises, I begged the washer to spin at high speed so Daddy could get some sleep. Because I can speak “washer”, the door locked, unlocked, locked, unlocked and then locked again before the tub spun counter clockwise, clockwise and then ramped up to 500 RPM. This showed encouragement. The counter finally dropped itself down to 0:07 and we hit medium speed 800 RPM. If there was a clutch pedal I would have popped it into sixth because it was less than a minute later that we reached high speed goodness and the washer kicked into high. We had full 1200 RPM, baby, and to prove this the dryer that is perched on top of the washer wagged a little dance back and forth and the cat shot into his litter box, flung some litter around and then went tearing down the hallway to tell the Papa Bear.

Life is good when your sheets are clean. They’re not only good, they’re hysterically good.

Speed.

So lately I have been making a conscious effort to stick to the posted speed limit. I usually attempt this while I’m driving. There are a couple of reasons for this effort, the first and foremost reason being that I am very concerned about the rising cost of fuel and I am doing everything I can to keep my commuting costs under control. Ironically, the Jeep performs better in the area of fuel efficiency when I’m on back roads instead of driving the freeways. This is backwards from what I have always been taught, but I guess that’s just the way this Jeep works. I’m fine with that; the scenery on the back roads is much better than the interstates anyways. It’s only five minutes or so extra to take the scenic route to work.

One of the features of my Jeep that I enjoy is the “eco” notification. A little display on the odometer tells me “ECO ON” when I’m driving in an economically fashion and just “ECO” when I’m not. There are no recommendations as to how to improve my driving skills to be more economically friendly, because quite frankly, I don’t believe a Jeep Wrangler is the place for a touch screen or anything that fancy but I have noticed that the I am not driving economically whenever I am driving over 71 MPH, even if I’m driving downhill.

In New York State the statewide speed limit is 55 unless otherwise posted. On the interstates and a few other freeways, the speed limit is posted at 65. Traffic rarely moves at that speed, 75 is commonplace and I am seeing more and more drivers doing 80 or more these days. Everyone is in a hurry. During my little experiment I have been driving at 66 MPH (because I’m a rebel) in the 65 zones. I try to stay a close to 55 as I can when that’s the posted speed limit, but occasionally I creep up to around 58 or so because I’m just bored.

I have increased my fuel efficiency from 18.5 MPG to 20.7 MPG using this approach. I think that’s pretty impressive. That’s around 30 extra miles on a tank of gas. That’s around $300 a year in fuel savings for me. I think the five extra minutes it takes to get to work is worth it.

I am a little surprised by the number of other folks on the Thruway that are driving around the same speed as me instead of whizzing by in the left lane without a care in the world but a thumb on the smartphone sending a text message. I don’t think distracted driving is a good idea under any circumstance and I don’t care what the distraction is: unruly kids, bossy GPS systems, phone calls, text messages, makeup application, shaving, eating, it all doesn’t matter, you should be driving and not doing other things. It just makes sense.

And it makes even more sense if you do it at a reasonable speed.

Impressive.

So last night when I was at the Apple store at the future Destiny USA, a younger woman walked up to Bryan, the Apple person that was helping me get my new iPad set up (we were basically waiting for my backup to download from iCloud, it was moving along at a wonderful pace). She was dressed in a way that suggested ‘hipster’ but not really quite there. Perhaps it was more her glasses than anything that looked hipster. She had an air of money about her. I didn’t find her unpleasant.

“Excuse me,” she said to Bryan, “may I speak with the manager, please?”

Bryan was very courteous with his reply, “Is there something I can help you with?” I don’t know if Bryan was the store manager or if the folks at the Apple store try to field these things before calling a manager, but he was quite nice about it.

“My friends and I have been standing over there for 20 minutes and no one has helped us and I’d like to let the manager know how rude the staff is here.”

Now this kind of bothered me, because I have been to many Apple stores over the years and while I have had some employees be less enthusiastic about Apple products than I am (because, I am a nut after all), I would never categorize any Apple employee that I have ever encountered as ‘rude’. Bothered or distracted? Maybe, and that’s usually because they’re handling a line of people out the door, but not once have they been ‘rude’. Not even ‘miffed’.

“I’m sorry about your experience,” Bryan replied, “did you press a specialist button on one of the iPad kiosks to indicate that you needed help?”

“What are you talking about? The folks on the floor have helped the people all around us but never talked to us.”

I would have been one of those people. I noticed this barely hipster girl (I like the male hipsters better, but that could be due to the mustache and gay thing I have going on) sitting in front of a cinema display playing on Facebook with a couple of her friends when I was looking at the iPads. Now granted, I didn’t press a specialist button until I was shown to do so but I did make a conscious effort to make eye contact with an Apple Specialist to show that I needed some assistance. I don’t know if the woman with the complaint had done the same thing because I didn’t notice.

Again Bryan apologized for her experience at the store and said, “if you’d like, I can get a specialist for you right now.” Seemed reasonable enough to me.

“Never mind, I called Best Buy and they have what I’m looking for on hold for me now, so I’m going to go there, but I just wanted to let the manager know how rude the sales staff is here.”

This kind of bothered me for the aforementioned reasons based on my experience but the thing that really bothered me is that she was really just trying to convey an air of bitchiness. She never mentioned the product that she had on hold nor did she ever say what she was trying to get an Apple Specialist to help her with. She just needed help.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t find what you were looking for and I will relay your experience to the manager. Again, I apologize that you weren’t helped in a timely fashion.” I admired Bryan’s calm approach.

“Well never mind,” and with that she bolted out of the store. A casual observation from me noted that she headed down the mall hallway in the direction opposite of Best Buy.

Bryan and I resumed the setup of my iPad. We then had a casual conversation beginning with me asking, “So, how is it to work in the mall?” He told me that he loved working for Apple but the mall … he could take it or leave it.

I get that. Bryan and I finished up my business (and I walked out with a beautiful new iPad) and I thanked him for his help and went on my way.

I mention this little scenario because it reinforces a couple of things I’ve observed over the years: 1. Folks are in way too much of a rush these days and don’t give customer service folks the respect they deserve. 2. While many customer experiences are absolutely hideous these days, there are establishments out there that focus on a premium retail experience for the customer, and while it may cost a little more than the bargain basement crap experience you can get from a big box, it is available to those who still prefer quality over quantity. 3. Most people are just rude and some folks just look for a reason to be rude.

I learned a little bit of a lesson with that scenario last night that has put me in a better mood this weekend, a little patience goes a long way and I need to remember that.

Baggs Square Café

So a few months ago I met up with our friends Shirley and Christine (whom I used to work with) at a local eatery, Baggs Square Café. They were offering a weekend brunch buffet that I found a little unique for this region. Instead of going up to the a buffet area to fill your plate up with food, you paid one price and you could eat as many items as you wanted off the menu, in whatever quantity you were in the mood for. So, for $19.95 you could order eight servings of prime rib if you wanted, which of course would be preceded by 14 servings of shrimp cocktail, a dozen bagels and to bring your meal to a satisfying finalé, a cupcake.

Of course I’m being extreme here, but they had it setup so that servers were constantly coming to your table to check on your happiness and to see if you wanted more food. It was kind of a nifty way to eat and it made for a great way to enjoy the company of your friends; you didn’t feel rushed and if you were in the mood for more, you could always order it.

Today I met up with our friend Mike (more on that in a future blog post this weekend) and I took him to the café for this fantastic brunch experience.

Except the experience was no more. Baggs Square Café was back to their standard, workday breakfast and lunch menu. You ordered at the counter and then they brought it to the table you selected. It’s not a very busy place so they didn’t bother with the likes of numbers on a tall stand or anything like that.

The food was delicious as always but when I asked why they had discontinued the brunch buffet they didn’t really fully answer the question. The counter attendant simply told me that this was the first week that it they were back to the original way of doing things but if I wanted to come back next week they were having a one-day offering of the brunch for Easter.

It’s a shame that this didn’t really catch on because I enjoyed the different eating experience on a Saturday morning. Perhaps we should have visited them more often.