I am in Berlin right now (completely the most awesome city i have visited, well, big city, anyway). And i was just in Deia (also gorgeous and delightful!) and there is much to write, but it is late and i am tired. And so instead i will give you all a poem i just wrote, because i am, say, in that mood!
Also v.v.tired, i spent the whole day cycling around berlin with two delights, it was really very nice!
Ok - and now the poem!
id normally edit it a bit? But i just had a book stolen (in deia, bah! bah!) in which i had written another poem, and i am a little annoyed that i lost it. So here is a first draft, just for good safeskeeping, which we all know i lack, no?
The road winds through the forests of my heart,
The mountains of my history look down in
stony
silence.
The seas that keep my soul so constant seem
though they from time to time will storm and thrash
though they, from time to time will angrily lash
against my glittering rocks
to no avail
the rocks they still
are there.
Other roads will come and go,
They'll pass on by, or maybe grow
A special kinship with
my
own.
So pleasant
to drive
on a road merged fine,
Where bend and curve match fully, to the line.
the greatest pain is turning off,
running off,
jerking that
wheel
off
my yellow plated road.
Does that rush,
that craze,
that frenzied care
freedom from that gaze,
winning of those seas;
does that, that those merged roads give,
replant the trees felled
when those two lines depart?
Thursday, December 24, 2015
A quick story about Vani
Who was a recruiter I had back in London. Now, let's paint the tale - starving software engineer, down on his luck, looking for a job. Vani, the recruiter with a job, and The Man, in this case a company (whose name I have, actually honestly forgotten) which was in the business of "adult phone services". This is either (for women) crap like horoscopes and cooking recipes, and (for men) "adult phone services *wink wink*".
I added the "*wink wink*" just for clarification.
SO yeah, I blow them apart, do their dinky little "java test" and kill it, and then they offer me the job. It's not much money, and the company is by no means a bank, and it is in no way at all a career step that is worth my time. So I ask them for time to "think about it" - I'm waiting on some other offers.
Oh wait, it's an IT job, I wasn't actually being offered to pretend to be a women to lonely men over the phone.
The more time passes (I asked for 3 days - stupid!) and I don't have a definite on the other offers yet... Vani (the recruiter? Remember? He was a paragraph ago, goldfish-person) calls. I tell him I need more time.
Then he calls back.
"Andrew, this is Vani. I have just spoken to the client, and he is saying that he thinks he has given you the time to make the decision, and you should make the decision. He thinks that if you don't take it now, but take it later, it means you don't really want this job and you will just spend your time looking for new jobs."
Vani, mate, the client is astute. But this leaves me in a bad place! I can't possibly accept this job, but I don't have guarantees on the other fronts - what happens if IT ALL FALLS APART? Huh? What then?
So I accept. Oh, wait, I'm doing talk-things now instead...
"Vani, I'll accept the job, but the wage isn't what I'm looking for. See if you can get it up a bit, let's add, ummm, five thousand pounds."
Now, I know what this client (The Man) is thinking - they think that the other jobs have piked on me (when they are just slow), and I'm diddling around for more money.
"Andrew, this is Vani. The client has come back, and will add two and a half thousand pounds, and no more."
"Well, Vani, then I can't take the job."
"Andrew, I'll let you think about it, and will call you back."
"No, Vani..."
"*deet-deet-deet*"
(That last bit wasn't Vani SAYING deet-deet-deet, but was the sound of the hung-up dial tone. Got it?)
Ok, so, Vani calls back, and adds on ANOTHER thousand pounds. But after a bit, I tell him I can't accept the job. They wanted me to start immediately, and were generally being ridiculous about the whole thing.
Which is when Vani thinks the time is right to open up a can of Vani-quality-whup-ass on me.
"Andrew, this is Vani. I know you want to work in the financial sector, but you don't have enough experience to do that. You can't just get a job in that area without experience. This is a good job, and it's a good step up for you. After two years, you will have enough experience to get that financial sector job, but right now, you should take this. You only have a year's work, you aren't going to find a better paying job anywhere in London. If you don't take this now, you won't get another chance at this job."
It was the most cynical, disgusting thing that's happened on holiday, and I've seen the poor and impoverished. Vani was really just trying to twist the knife to get me to accept this job. It was being really crudely done by him, but he was doing it nonetheless. Anyway, I
I added the "*wink wink*" just for clarification.
SO yeah, I blow them apart, do their dinky little "java test" and kill it, and then they offer me the job. It's not much money, and the company is by no means a bank, and it is in no way at all a career step that is worth my time. So I ask them for time to "think about it" - I'm waiting on some other offers.
Oh wait, it's an IT job, I wasn't actually being offered to pretend to be a women to lonely men over the phone.
The more time passes (I asked for 3 days - stupid!) and I don't have a definite on the other offers yet... Vani (the recruiter? Remember? He was a paragraph ago, goldfish-person) calls. I tell him I need more time.
Then he calls back.
"Andrew, this is Vani. I have just spoken to the client, and he is saying that he thinks he has given you the time to make the decision, and you should make the decision. He thinks that if you don't take it now, but take it later, it means you don't really want this job and you will just spend your time looking for new jobs."
Vani, mate, the client is astute. But this leaves me in a bad place! I can't possibly accept this job, but I don't have guarantees on the other fronts - what happens if IT ALL FALLS APART? Huh? What then?
So I accept. Oh, wait, I'm doing talk-things now instead...
"Vani, I'll accept the job, but the wage isn't what I'm looking for. See if you can get it up a bit, let's add, ummm, five thousand pounds."
Now, I know what this client (The Man) is thinking - they think that the other jobs have piked on me (when they are just slow), and I'm diddling around for more money.
"Andrew, this is Vani. The client has come back, and will add two and a half thousand pounds, and no more."
"Well, Vani, then I can't take the job."
"Andrew, I'll let you think about it, and will call you back."
"No, Vani..."
"*deet-deet-deet*"
(That last bit wasn't Vani SAYING deet-deet-deet, but was the sound of the hung-up dial tone. Got it?)
Ok, so, Vani calls back, and adds on ANOTHER thousand pounds. But after a bit, I tell him I can't accept the job. They wanted me to start immediately, and were generally being ridiculous about the whole thing.
Which is when Vani thinks the time is right to open up a can of Vani-quality-whup-ass on me.
"Andrew, this is Vani. I know you want to work in the financial sector, but you don't have enough experience to do that. You can't just get a job in that area without experience. This is a good job, and it's a good step up for you. After two years, you will have enough experience to get that financial sector job, but right now, you should take this. You only have a year's work, you aren't going to find a better paying job anywhere in London. If you don't take this now, you won't get another chance at this job."
It was the most cynical, disgusting thing that's happened on holiday, and I've seen the poor and impoverished. Vani was really just trying to twist the knife to get me to accept this job. It was being really crudely done by him, but he was doing it nonetheless. Anyway, I
Ok, so no exciting story
The story? Well, the plan WAS to go to the airport, and check in my luggage. Seeing as I only had a coupl'a tees and some jeans, and they were in a plastic bag, there really wouldn't appear to be a need to. But, oh, there was.
See, in the oosa, the airports have this quaint law about not carrying more than 3oz (whatever THAT is. Whenever I see oz, I think of the lamentable teenage mutant ninja turtles movie: "The Secret of the Ooze" (or maybe it was a game)) of liquid... and yep, you gueesed, I am packin' more than that.
"How?" You ask, oh so helpfully? No, really, do you? Oh! You do! Good!
Well, because I carry contact-lens fluid on me. Going TO NYC, the delights at customs not only insisted I throw away my 4oz container, but ALSO that I throw away my mostly-used toothpaste. Why I'd brought it, I don't know, I hadn't brought the brush. There are 2 ways to carry these deadly liquids through the oosa airspace, by the way. One is by putting it in a clear, quart-sized zip-locked bag zzzz-zzzzzzz-zzzzz.
The other is to check it in! Obvious.
So, the plan was, on the way back from NYC to SFO (I don't know what the 'O' means, the airport is called San Fran International...), to check in my contact lense fluid. Think of the hilarity at 1am when I toddle off the plane, only to have to go to the rotating thinggummy whatsit to wait for my contact lens bottle, that would dutifully trundle off the conveyor belt, alongside the other bags.
Ok, it's a pretty funny image, except that had I done it, it would have been 1am and I wouldn't have bothered. As it happens, though, I didn't do it. And NOT because I wasn't allowed to... but because I didn't need to. Yep, they just let me carry my contact-lens fluid RIGHT ONTO THAT PLANE. God knows what the "evil forces" that threaten this fine nation (oosa) will do with that info now it's on the internet, but I'm not flying here again!
Oh, and Fox News? I watched one of your shows tonight - it's called the "Bill O'Reilly Show". Just thought I should let you know, after watching it? My IQ dropped... that darn thing isn't high to start with, and your show's simplistic grammar and easy-to-reuse point of view (the world is, apparantly, full of "good guys" and "bad guys") has lowered it more. It took my a full ten minutes to open the fridge door after watching your show, and it was only later that I realised that I'd really wanted to go out and get some milk. I was wondering why it was so dark outside. And cold. And small.
I'll sue! That's what I'll do!
See, in the oosa, the airports have this quaint law about not carrying more than 3oz (whatever THAT is. Whenever I see oz, I think of the lamentable teenage mutant ninja turtles movie: "The Secret of the Ooze" (or maybe it was a game)) of liquid... and yep, you gueesed, I am packin' more than that.
"How?" You ask, oh so helpfully? No, really, do you? Oh! You do! Good!
Well, because I carry contact-lens fluid on me. Going TO NYC, the delights at customs not only insisted I throw away my 4oz container, but ALSO that I throw away my mostly-used toothpaste. Why I'd brought it, I don't know, I hadn't brought the brush. There are 2 ways to carry these deadly liquids through the oosa airspace, by the way. One is by putting it in a clear, quart-sized zip-locked bag zzzz-zzzzzzz-zzzzz.
The other is to check it in! Obvious.
So, the plan was, on the way back from NYC to SFO (I don't know what the 'O' means, the airport is called San Fran International...), to check in my contact lense fluid. Think of the hilarity at 1am when I toddle off the plane, only to have to go to the rotating thinggummy whatsit to wait for my contact lens bottle, that would dutifully trundle off the conveyor belt, alongside the other bags.
Ok, it's a pretty funny image, except that had I done it, it would have been 1am and I wouldn't have bothered. As it happens, though, I didn't do it. And NOT because I wasn't allowed to... but because I didn't need to. Yep, they just let me carry my contact-lens fluid RIGHT ONTO THAT PLANE. God knows what the "evil forces" that threaten this fine nation (oosa) will do with that info now it's on the internet, but I'm not flying here again!
Oh, and Fox News? I watched one of your shows tonight - it's called the "Bill O'Reilly Show". Just thought I should let you know, after watching it? My IQ dropped... that darn thing isn't high to start with, and your show's simplistic grammar and easy-to-reuse point of view (the world is, apparantly, full of "good guys" and "bad guys") has lowered it more. It took my a full ten minutes to open the fridge door after watching your show, and it was only later that I realised that I'd really wanted to go out and get some milk. I was wondering why it was so dark outside. And cold. And small.
I'll sue! That's what I'll do!
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