I visited my prior place of employment this week. They’re in a new office, but the walls are the same, if you can get that. A few of the scientists and geographers I knew have endured. Lots of new faces in the admin departments. Nice folk though. Seems like a good crew. The crew was never the problem. I don’t care what you sell or how revolutionary a product it is. Your team is your business and you’ll never be successful until you get that. I learned this from my dad.
I’m sitting in a cafe in downtown Davis, one of the few independents left down here as they all fall away to the plain jane nondescript chains that spring up between the cracks of the sidewalks overnight like weeds.
There are about 20 people in the cafe today. 11 of them are sitting in front of laptop computers. Over half of the laptops are Apples. Nice.
I’m in good company.
Luke is now 8 months old, with 7 teeth and just enough wisps on his head to get nap hair. He is crawling with speed and determination. Shawn and I are on the look out for recognizable words. Luke is on the look out for trouble – anything he can get into that’s less than two feet off the ground is eligible. He is fascinated with buttons and levers and noses. Balls and balloons are the best thing ever. He’s developed a discerning palette and is instantly suspicious of green food.
Luke is now officially two months old. He can smile. He entertains us with witty sayings such as, "A goo ba goooo um." He has a proceeding hair line, chubby little arms, and feet that I absolutely must kiss whenever I see them. He enjoys eating, watching the rotating animals in his mobile march in endless circles, eating, staring at Christmas lights, eating, and he prefers to be elevated and moving at all times. If you bounce him contrary to the beat in any music that might be playing in the background, he notices and complains. That's my boy.
Last Friday, I got an email from a co-worker in the business department. Monday, she said, was the boss's birthday, and as such, we'd be having our standard pizza party to celebrate. Please be sure to sign the card. As I already had plans on Monday (Shawn's office was throwing us a baby shower) I more or less disregarded the email.
Monday rolled around and at a quarter to noon, I logged out of my work station, grabbed my keys, and headed for the door.
It's beautiful outside. It really is. If you live 'round about me and you don't have to be at work right now like I do, shut your computer off and venture out of doors. It's the perfect temperature, which on Planet Shannon is about 80 degrees. Just warm enough so that you can wear a light sweater and not be hot, or wear just a t-shirt and not be cold. There's a light breeze that's just a few degrees cooler. When you step into the sunshine you can feel it soaking into your skin. It's just lovely.
"Melinda's new computer."
"Where's the rest of it?"
"But it's so small!"
"It's probably 5 times faster that what she has under her desk now."
"Yep. It's faster than your computer too."
I've had a major victory at work. The GIS staff (all two of us) have spent the last few months going 10 rounds with the management about elevation inconsistencies in our GPS gear. The earth isn't round, as it turns out, which is a minor inconvenience to one or two of my fellow office-mates, who subsequently demanded that I make it that way, in addition to solidifying the magma and halting all gravitational interference from other stellar bodies. I'll get right on that. As soon as I become a Q.
It's amazing what an effect music can have on you. My work place has been a pretty negative space lately. Due to recent events that are neither appropriate for me to disclose nor necessary for you to hear about, the last thing I wanted to do was walk through that door this morning. Not unless I was armed with a baseball bat and could use a few specific people for batting practice. (I consider myself a pacifist but that doesn't mean I'm not occasionally tempted.)