I posted a picture of me holding a sketchbook with easily replaceable content. Hilarity ensued.
Archive for the 'Work' Category
Thanks, Matt.
Despite Will’s insistence that I draw penises, my inspiration came from a perceived mispronounciation of “autocracy” by Matt which was caught by Colin as “octocracy” (aka having eight legged cephalopod overlord rulers) that I just had to draw.
This is the result:
Heard from my coworker. I think he’s having a case of the Mondays. 
When I grow up, I’m going to have a genocide. Well, not really, unless stupid is a race.
At work I sit right beside an air conditioner. It’s been great during the summer so far, especially since I work on the upper floor where the warmth likes to hang out. The only problem I’ve had with it is when it’s on, it blasts me so directly that turning it on and off constantly is only way to compromise the extremes of hot and cold.
View of distance of air conditioner to desk
I heard that my predecessor constructed a cardboard “deflector” to redirect the icy blast, so that is what I sought to do.
Tools for construction, from my handy dandy handbag
Armed with packing tape, scissors, a box cutter I found on the ground, a Fed-Ex box previously deemed useless, as well as my limited edition Sigg Geisha Grace drinking receptacle (thanks Tita Grace), I was ready to go.
Reinforced support, adjustable air permitter
I knew that on some days I would want more air flow than others, so I made an adjustable side-thingy that would alter the angle of the deflector. I also didn’t want to tape the whole thing to the air conditioner itself, so I created a reinforced support block (and by reinforced I mean I cut little triangles and taped them in place, as seen to the left of the above picture) for the deflector to rest on. Below is a side view of the finished product.
Side view
It took me about 20 minutes and half a box to make, and it worked well. Too well. I had to cut the height of the deflector slightly because it wasn’t letting enough air through. I thought about creating adjustable slits for air to flow through, but I think I’m going to leave that for Deflector 2.0.
One of the best things about something new is all the firsts that get to be experienced. In a new relationship, it’s the first kiss, first holiday together, first “I love you”. With a new car you can take it for your first ride home, first drive through, first carwash. Even with a new packaged product I savour tearing the perforations that will only hold together once. Today I experienced a first at my new job. Before I explain let me tell you about the old way.
At Critical Mass, there are people called Release Engineers whose main role (among many) is to manage the transport of digital components that comprise a website. They are the digital ushers that make sure that code, images, configuration files, everything gets deployed onto the testing and live environments. A web developer would typically submit their workings into a repository with a certain identifying tag, and the Release Engineers would gather the files to carry them along their merry way.
At Applied, there is no such role. A developer is responsible for pushing their own code and assets to the review and production servers, and we do so by running neat little command line executions. (Yes, I even bugged that Release Engineers that they could be replaced by very small scripts.)
Today, the boss* was gone. He instructed me to watch for changes, and left me in the hands of the marketing director who also had strong involvement in the project. It is a real estate website selling ranches and other community homes. I finished the last changes and was instructed to put the changes up. Now, I should’ve known that things have to go to review before production, but with my brain on autopilot and digesting information on how to create a Facebook app, I asked which server it should go on. She asked me what the difference was, and as I gave URLs as the main differentiating point (not very clear), she told me to put the changes up on production. I had test data in to demonstrate what the price column would look like, so all the properties (including a ranch the size of Monaco) was on sale for $4 million dollars. Later that afternoon the salesperson for the property called, and luckily the marketing director fielded the call. This brought me back to my days on Mercedes-Benz where we’d spend hours upon hours just making sure that the pricing and disclaimers were correct, just in case. The entire time, all I could hear in my head was the Release Engineer Manager’s warning, “Just wait until something goes wrong, then what will you do?” Well, I just moved quickly and drew upon the support of my new team. I have to thank the marketing director for her patience through this whole ordeal, and also my coworker and deskmate for his calm instructions on how to roll back the changes and restore the live site.
Now, I’m just hoping that my boss doesn’t read this blog, otherwise everything will be juuuuust as normal. 
*I use the word boss only because I don’t want to use names. He is my oversight and manager, I guess you’d say. There really is no hierarchy.
My first exposure to the idea of QoTD came from my university days when I’d spend my free time hanging out with the math club. Oh yes, I was a wild girl.
I messaged a friend about what we had for our Stampede Breakfast at Applied:
- lemon curd and ricotta pancakes
- strawberry reduction and caramelized apples with whipped cream for toppings
- muffins
- croissants
- at least three kinds of bacon
- sausages
- fruit salad
- granola cookie-type things
- cheesy hash browns
- mimosas
- smoothies
And the response was, “Our Stampede breakfast was today. They gave us expired sausages, undercooked pancakes and warm water … served by hobos with weeping sores.”
My last day at Critical Mass went by very quickly. I’m writing a stream of events that happened that day, so that when the visual memories flash by in my head like a projector movie I’ll have some semblance of chronological order to them.
Dropping off thank you cards to my closest friends. Feeling like a visitor in my own desk as I had packed my things the day before. Jonathan Arkell’s personal thank you for the card I left. Confimring last-minute lunch reservations for 25. Watching “Superman vs. Carcin-O-John”. Matt Chan bringing me a chinese bun because my stomach was grumbly. Calling shotgun to get a ride from Jeff Bolton, and the hilarity that ensued. Lunch with new team members and departed ones. Being greeted by Ninja and Sprout back at the office. My last Knowledge Management team meeting. Saying hi to Debra and Pickles. Running off to the local wine store for a sample of prosecco. Making rounds of goodbyes. Goodbyes shorter than expected, as people snuck out for the long weekend. One last conversation with Jonathan Arkell about the better things in life.
I left my parting email short and sweet, as goodbye emails from everyone else in the company seem to recall the same best things about the company that I do.
And then it was over.
When I was a kid, no matter where I was, home/family friend’s house/car/etc, I’d be asleep at 8pm. On the dot. My parents or caregiver would have to collect me up from where I had slowly and sleepily churned my way into slumber and transport me to my bed if I already wasn’t there.
As an adult, since completing my Computer Science degree (read: sleep deprivation galore), that magic number has changed to 10:30pm.
But it’s 12:26, and I just can’t get to sleep. And it has nothing to do with the heat.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time thinking about my goodbyes to individuals at Critical Mass before my nighttime ablutions. Some light hearted and thinking of funny and inappropriate moments, some of them more worded to be a solemn thank you. It’s finally sinking in that I’ll be moving on. Of the Five Stages of Rosemary, I’ve finally reached the last and final stage: sorrow. Let me explain.
Over a year ago, I had been at Critical Mass for over two years, which is a hell of a lot of time to build memorable friendships worth keeping. Of course, being part of a large company means that even 10% turnover for a 500+ employee count means a potential of losing five friends. It was hard for me to say goodbye to people moving on, and after a while I noticed a pattern. Five dominant emotions had to be cycled through in order to come to terms with the change.
- Happiness. Why not be happy? After all, a friend is moving on to a new opportunity!
- Sharing. Let’s relive the great memories we’ve had together. Let’s share this great news with other people so that they can also experience happiness.
- Denial. But they can’t possibly be leaving. Why would they have to leave to be happy?
- Anger. No! Why is this happening?
- Sorrow. The delayed realization that day-to-day joys can no longer be shared with this individual face-to-face. Sigh.
Since it was my decision to leave, I don’t get step #4. Instead I’ve plummeted straight from Denial to Sorrow, as I know that just on the other side of sleep I have to pack up my things and do my exit interview. There are so many people I will miss. Even with all the ways to connect online, I still prefer hearing laughter.
It’s 12:40 , which means it’s Thursday. It’s eggs benny day at CM, it’s the day Dan Savage rolls out a new article, and it’s the day of the week dedicated to honor Thor. It also means that technically tomorrow, Friday, is my last day at Critical Mass.
I hate to see what that day will be like.
It's tough to think of a blurb for myself when I'm also on