Coke Zero? More like Coke Hero...

Isn't it weird how you can consider someone a great friend, even if you never see them anymore? We've been in England for three years now, and in California and Nebraska for the 4 years before that, and in that whole time we've seen our friends Will and Raye maybe 4 times. Yet I still consider Will a great friend; possibly my best non-spouse friend.

Some time ago, Susie and I jumped on the weight-loss wagon (Weight Watchers, to be specific) and we were points-counting fools. We got some of our friends into it, and we sort of became "The Points Mafia." Susie and I did really well on it, too. Will didn't play so much; he preferred to look on in bemusement.

Well... some years on, and I've fallen off the wagon. The weight is piling back on, and while I'm not back to where I was, I'm getting uncomfortably close. And now some new work requirements have highlighted this to me most distressingly. So it's back on the weight-loss wagon. I've mentioned it here before, and the follow-through was, um, lacking, but the wake-up call has sounded, and the motivation is both internal AND external this time.

So, what's with the title of this post? Will, for reasons relating to college (and doesn't THAT cover a multitude of sins?) is known to his friends as "Coke." And he's been on the weight-loss wagon now, too. And damn successfully, I might add. He's been blogging his progress, and I think it's pretty great how well he's doing. I really hope he keeps it up, and I hope I can be as successful... this time.

I still remember.

Why I serve.

Is this thing on?

Yeah, so this is a pretty cavernous empty room I'm looking at. I suppose that's what happens when you only post once in 9 months. I don't know why I stopped. It's weird. I enjoy posting. I like the feeling that maybe out there some stranger is reading my words and going "hmmm." I guess it's just an inertia thing. When I go away, I get out of the habit, and when I come home, it's hard to start again. Now, of course, it looks like I'll be going away again in a few weeks, so, yeah, my timing is right up there.

Anyway. Here I am.

A story to welcome me back...

I'm a pretty big "Star Trek" fan. No, really; I know it's hard to believe, but I am. One day I was watching an episode of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" and I got to wondering about how those people would fare in today's world. So I wrote this quick little story-like thingy. Sort of a "Dilbert" meets "The Office" meets "ST:TNG." Enjoy.

-------------

Life aboard the Enterprise: The TRUE story.

"Captain's Log, Stardate... umm.. is this on? Damn. Ahem. Captain's Log, Stardate 43210.5 The Enterprise has been ordered by Starfleet to investigate a 'stellar anomaly' in sector 134.3256 mark 6. We have set aside our current mission of... dammit, why did this thing stop recording? Anyone?"

"Sir," replied his first officer, "like I told you before, you have to hold the 'record' button down the whole time, not just at the beginning." Will Riker looked at the ceiling, the floor, the walls. Anything to avoid looking at his captain. "I've never had a problem with mine," he said.

"Well," said Picard, "I'll just finish the damn log entry later. Helm, set our course."

"Aye, sir." The young helmsman's fingers began dancing across the console. Suddenly, an odd beep sounded from the helm controls. A puzzled look crossed the crewman's face, and he repeated his last entry. Again, the odd beep. "Um, captain? I'm getting a 'system access error' in the helm control program."

"How can that be? Did you remember to hit control-B before entering the coordinates? You did. Did you enter the coordinates in the new format?"

"Um, new format, sir?"

"Yes, the new 3.4 format, the one that we had that training session on last week? The one from the fuel consumption monitor program?"

"Um, sir, this is helm control, not fuel consumption..."

"I know that, ensign! But the newest version of FuelCon requires that format, and since it imports the data directly from the HelmCon app, we have to use that on the bridge."

"Oh. I'm sorry, sir, but this isn't my regular post. The old helm guy got laid off last week - well, he took 'early retirement from Starfleet,' but it wasn't by choice. Anyway, I'm usually with hardware development, you know, the deck 17 gang? So I was -"

"Never mind, ensign. Can you correct the problem now that you know what it is?"

"Well, no sir. The program is completely locked. I can access other programs; see, the Torpedo Launchers, the Phasers, all that, but the Helm Control is-- uh-oh."

"What does THAT mean?"

"Well, sir, now the whole thing is locked. I can't even reset it. I'll have to do a hard reset, with the switch underneath. The reboot will take about 30 seconds. Sorry, sir."

"Don't worry, ensign. Everyone has to reboot a console now and then."

"Yes, sir. Um, sir? It's not coming up. It's hanging in the hardware selftest."

"Right. I'd better call engineering, then." He taps his comm badge.. nothing. He glares at the ceiling, looks at the comm badge.

"Sir," says Riker, "We've found we get the best signal when we stand near the main viewscreen."

As the captain moves toward the viewscreen, he glances down at the ops console, where he notices...

"Mr. Data, are you playing Minesweeper on duty AGAIN?"

With a guilty start, Data clears away his game and buries himself in the status reports on his screen.

Arriving in front of the viewscreen, Picard once again taps his comm badge. At the distinctive chirp of a good signal, he says, "Picard to Engineering, come in, LaForge." There is no answer, no sound at all. He taps the comm badge off, then back on again. "Picard to Engineering, come in." Suddenly, the computer's voice booms from the comm badge.

"I'm sorry, the Comm System user you are trying to reach is unavailable, or has traveled outside the range of his equipment. Please try your comm again later."

Visibly containing his anger, Picard growls, "You have the bridge, Number One. Keep trying to reboot that damn console; I'm going to find LaForge." He stalks toward the turbolift doors, which fail to slide open as he approaches. He pulls himself up short, obviously annoyed at having his dramatic entrance spoiled so. Finally, the doors slide open, and he enters the lift.

* * * * *

Moments later, Picard enters the Engineering section of his starship. There are parts of at least six different ship's systems strewn across various consoles. The entire Engineering staff seems to be crowded around one table in the back corner, so he approaches it. Seeing his Chief Engineer at the center of the crowd, he speaks.

"Mr. LaForge. A moment, please?"

Startled, Geordi jumps up. "What is it, Captain?"

"First, why was I unable to reach you by comm?"

"Really?" asks Geordi. "Let me check," he says, removing his comm badge to get a look at the back. "Oh, no. I'm sorry, sir, I grabbed the wrong one this morning. I meant to leave this one in the charger, but I guess I got them mixed up."

"Well, let's not let that happen again, shall we?" said the captain, raising an eyebrow enquiringly. "As for my other question, why is my Helm Control console down again?"

"Sir, I've tried to fix that. I've reinstalled every system. I've checked all of the connections. I'd say it's a bum operating system. If you'd just let me install a Vulcix operating system and get rid of that MicroFleet Viewports software, I promise you, you'd see a world of difference..."

"Mr. LaForge, I am NOT about to let you use such an, um, 'experimental' system on _my_ starship..."

And as the captain and his chief engineer begin their old familiar argument, the helm control console comes back online. But without a connection to the network. And the comm badge system loses another 37 calls that day. And the weekly crew health report somehow loses its formatting and prints out on actual paper... in a single column one letter wide and 35.3 kilometers long.

Just another day on the Starship Enterprise.

Happy Pi Day!

Just a quick post on my lunch break. Pi day? Notice the date (and if I've done this right, the time) of this post. Gotta run!

Wow, it's been a while, hm?

Yep, I've been away. Then I came home for 2 days, and went away again. I'm still "away again," but at least this time I'm at a school in Germany (where we just got about a foot of snow last night, pictures may follow).

Anyway, for my legion of fan (heh), I'm sorry I was away for so long, but I think I'll be able to write more now. Probably not every day, but more often than monthly, anyway. :)

At least this time it's not like the first (or second, or third) time when I started to blog, where I wrote for a week and then forgot for months. This time, the interruption was not due to a lack of interest on my part, but on a lack of ability (time, place, etc). What that means is that I'm back. Slowly, anyway, for now, but if you're reading this, then stay tuned, tell your friends, and I'll see you again soon!

Posting Difficulties

Hi to anyone popping in to read this blog. David asked me to post a quick update. There have been some cables cut in the Middle East, and it's having a HUGE effect on internet and phone access where he is, so he won't have access to the blog for a while.

Sorry about that!!
[posted by Susie]

I got you, babe

Probably the worst thing about these trips is the monotony. Day in,
day out, the same thing. We refer to this place as the "minimum
security prison," because, well, that's pretty much what it's like.
There are lots of (what we consider stupid) rules, we're not allowed
to leave except under specific conditions, we're stuck here until our
"sentence" is done, they tell us exactly what to wear at all times,
where to be and when to be there, and how long to stay once we get
there.

Granted, if you know who I work for, and you haven't had any
experience with them, you'd probably expect things to work this way.
But really, it's not supposed to. Yes, there are rules, and that's
fine. But rules just to have a rule? Or worse, rules solely as
tests? (As in, "You may not want to tuck in your shirt, but if I can't
trust you to follow the rule to tuck in your shirt, how can I trust
that you'll do the right thing when it's time to get the job done?")
That's insulting. But my shirt's tucked in, so there you are.

After a short time here, we get what we all call the "Groundhog Day"
effect. Every day is a repeat of the day before, and we know that the
next day will be the same. Hell, no kidding, I have no idea what day
of the week today is, and I have to ask for the date every time I sign
some paperwork. And most everyone goes through that deep trough of
"God, I hate this place" somewhere around the halfway point. The
point where, in that movie, Bill Murray's character started
experimenting with toasters and bathtubs. Well, he didn't see any way
out, so of course he took drastic measures. None of us here have
reached THAT low of a point, but we can certainly understand the
feeling. It seems like we just keep doing the same thing over and
over, and none of it really matters. Then we take a look at the
calendar, and we realize that we're more than halfway done, and there
is indeed a light at the end of the tunnel.

It still sucks to be here, but we know we're leaving. We're about to
hit that point, I think. The low point can only last so long, and I
know that, if I'm Bill Murray, then I've got the best Andie MacDowell
waiting for me at home. And that's what gets me through these trips.
Susie, you really are the greatest, and I can't wait to get back home.

Morale boosters

One of the nice things about being down here is that they often do try
to make your life better. It's tough, mostly because they spend so
much time trying to make your life rotten that they get out of
practice.

Take Christmas dinner. One of the customs of my employer is that on
big holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, they more senior members
"turn the tables" on themselves, and man the steam tables to serve
dinner to the more junior. It's a nice touch, and I've always
appreciated it. But this past Christmas, when I went to dinner, I
saw something that made our custom pale in comparison, at least in my
eyes.

We all eat in a communal facility, a cafeteria, if you will. This
includes not just the people I work for and with, but those of our
partners from other countries. As I entered on Christmas day, looking
forward to a nice dinner (they do tend to go "all out" on the food as
well) I noticed one of our British brethren, a more senior type,
standing in the door. He greeted me pleasantly enough, wished me a
Happy Christmas, and held the door for me. I stepped inside, picked
up a tray, and headed for the line. I noticed the sounds of jollity
from the room, but didn't think anything of it as I collected my
shrimp cocktail, steamship round of beef, turkey, mashed potatoes,
corn, and brussels sprouts (yes, sprouts! I was a happy guy). The
senior leadership behind the steam tables were cheerful, offering
generous helpings with a "Merry Christmas," but they were also joking
and talking amongst themselves. Now, granted, there's only so much
room behind a steam table, and so when two are serving, where else are
the other 10 going to go? They're going to stand behind, hanging
about, and chatting. I didn't think much of it at the time, as I
headed to a table.

Looking about, and not seeing anyone I knew, I moved toward a
nearly-empty table near the back of the room. It was then that I
noticed that the aforementioned jollity was coming from a group of
tables right next to the one I had chosen. I sat down, and looked
over. There were a group of very junior Brits, sitting at tables,
being waited on (table service, no steam table lines for them!) by
some VERY senior Brits. I mean VERY senior. And the seniors were
having a ball, waiting hand and foot upon the lowest of the low. And
the juniors were laughing and chatting, and ordering the boss's boss's
boss to take back the sundae he had just made, because there was too
much whipped cream on it, or demanding a bigger helping of stuffing.
And it was amazing. The cameraderie was palpable.

It made me jealous.

And then, as I watched, I noticed someone sit down directly across
from me at my table. I looked up, and noticed that it was the second
most-senior person at the whole place. And an American. I waited for
him to make eye contact, to wish him Merry Christmas.

He never looked up. He never said a word. He ate his dinner like a
man on a mission, in silence.

I looked over at the laughing Brits, and thought, "I thought our
leadership was doing a nice thing, but THAT's the way this should be
done." I turned to the very senior American. I'll call his name, I
thought, wish him a Merry Christmas anyway. But he was already
walking away, his tray empty.

I finished my pie, and went back to my room. Someday I'll be in a
senior leadership position. I hope I remember this Christmas when
it's my turn to man the steam tables.

A year? A YEAR?

A post a day for a year?  Yoiks.  And I'm already 3 days behind.  So I'm gonna make this "a post a day, whenever I can, which won't really be a post a day but close enough."  And it's going to have to do.  Oh, the stories I could tell, if I were to break my rule of not telling stories about work...

 

One downside of posting using this method (by email) is that I can't really include hyperlinks as easily as I'd like.  At least, I don't think I can.  Here's a test.  If you read my blog, and you've not gotten hooked on my wife's, then go over the www.theknitfarm.com and check it out.  She's got a good thing going over there.  And since I can't even read my own blog, I'll have to depend on you, my hordes of devoted fans, to let me know if it worked.  Or Susie can tell me, when she starts to see masses of hits on her site from the thousands... hundreds... dozens... ok, both of you.

 

Cheers, from "an undisclosed location."