Manlingerings
July 25, 2007
Short-timer’s syndrome is about the most evil non-physical ailment one can get at work. I can’t begin to explain how little motivation I have to do work other than what comes to me automatically. Trying to dig up the desire that doesn’t exist to work on long-term projects or even non-critical work is beginning to take its toll on me. I’m clock watching, I’m leaving early, hell, I even wore jeans last Thursday and it wasn’t even casual Friday. The horrors! Truth be told, the whole casual Friday thing is pretty much bull to begin with, so I’m willing to buck the system in my last couple of weeks. Plus, my manager was on vacation. That’s a recipe for disaster right there: short-timer’s syndrome and no management.
I sent out my “So long, and thanks for all the fish” email yesterday, and so far I’ve been getting a mixture of “We’ll miss you!” and joking “Quitter!” responses. I think overall, most people are happy for me. My coworkers, at least. Not so much my boss.
My manager has seemed a little on-edge this week. Perhaps it’s because he’s losing one of the two people in his department. Perhaps it’s because he’s losing both people in his department, though the second of those revelations isn’t public knowledge yet. Marc gave his notice to management, but not to the firm. In fact, he was given explicit instructions not to send out an “I’m leaving” email like I did yesterday. I guess management needs a day or two to get things straightened out before the fact that the entire department is emptying becomes firm-wide knowledge.
I’m having drinks several times next week, though. Once with a partner, another time with a partner, and one more time–I presume–with whoever wants to come to a going away shindig for me. I’m not organizing it, so I hope so. I hope I rate people coming out after work to say goodbye.
I made another batch of beer last weekend, inspired both by a desire to show my Dad exactly what I’ve been doing with my time as well as a trip out to a small McMenamins brewfest at the Cornelius Pass Roadhouse on Saturday night. I adjusted my basic recipe somewhat both to use different hops and malt extract, as well as using liquid yeast for the first time. I’ve only used powdered yeast up until now, so this was a little different. You break the inner seal of the packet to let the yeast mix with nutrients, and the yeast starts producing carbon dioxide. You have to be careful the (sealed) packed doesn’t expand too much, though, or pop. It was hot on Sunday when I broke the packet, but not that hot fortunately.
This batch went much more smoothly. Aside from remembering to add the bittering hops this time (2 oz. of Cascade hops), I also added the hopped spray malt extract that gives the yeast a little something extra to eat to produce more alcohol when the wort was hot so it dissolves much better. Last time I added it when the malt was cool. Duh. Lots of clumps. Tough to filter out. Stupid decision.
George Lucas was seen wearing a “Han Shot First” T-shirt. My geek inner self is content.
And now I return to my viewing of Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. I had a hankering, what can I say? Last night I watched most of Tron, so apparently I’m geeking out. I’m not nearly done with Hanne’s geekification, fortunately. We’re only halfway through season 5 of “Buffy” and season 2 of “Angel,” so there are six-ish seasons to go in the Buffyverse. Then we have season 3 on “Battlestar Galactica,” all of “Farscape,” and all of “Firefly” to go. Plenty of time to geekify my girlfriend.
But she has an advanced case of Wii-elbow, so there might be hope for her, yet.
Shiny.
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