The Year of the Blog

I started keeping a schedule with my blogging in early March 2013, just before I moved to Maryland.  Since then, I've been posting at least three days a week.  Occasionally I've missed a day, but every time that's happened I've written a make-up post.  Add to that, "Tuesdays with Media" that lasted for nearly three months, and you get even more posts.

According to my math, if I posted three times a week for the entire year, I'd have 156 posts completed.  According to Google (who hosts my blog), this is my 168th post of the year.

Also of note, I wrote and posted eleven short stories in 2014 (there were twelve stories posted, but one was written back in 2009).  Before this year, I had written and posted three stories, and one was a class assignment.  In fact, prior to last year, I don't think I had ever written any short stories that weren't for a class assignment.

This blog has helped in other ways, too.  I don't always have the best memory, but with this blog, I'm able to review experiences that I've written about.  I've even used this blog to help me get the dates right of past jobs that I've worked when applying to new jobs.  I've also written essays on topics ranging from women portrayed in films to my position about being labeled a "millennial," which helps me better understand what I think on the matters.

So thank you, dear readers, for giving me a place to practice my writing and organizing my thoughts.  As mentioned above, this blog has been very helpful for me.  Let's see if we can't do even more posts next year.

More Than Friends

I stopped by the Simciks' home last night to drop something off and was invited inside.  I'm invited in pretty much any time I stop by for any reason, so I wasn't really surprised by it this time.  What I was surprised by was the fact that they had other members of their family over visiting and they were all sitting at the table, having just finished dinner.

I was really embarrassed for interrupting their time with family and said that I would be on my way, but they insisted that I sit down and join them for dessert.  I protested a little more, but before I knew what was going on, I was sitting at the table and meeting the other members of the family.  My simple drop-off turned into a nearly hour-long visit.  One of their daughters, who was visiting from college and I've talked with several times, even told me that she thinks of me as her brother.  I have never had any friends before where I was so welcomed by every member of the family that I'm practically a member myself.  And the best part is that the feeling is mutual.

I don't get see too many members of my actual family very often, so it's nice to know that I have another one so close by.

Christmas 2014

This Christmas was a little different than I've had in recent years, because it involved more family than usual.  With my family spread across the country in practically every time zone, it isn't easy to get together.  Despite the long trip, my parents and Grandma Bonnie came to visit me and my brother's family, as well as my sister's family in New Jersey later on.

The traveling trio arrived in Baltimore at around 9:30 in the morning on Sunday after traveling for nearly twelve hours.  Due to the timing of their trip, they arrived with a little bit of time before my ward started, so we planned on them attending Church with me.  I knew they would be hungry so I arranged with the Simciks to be able to use their kitchen to cook my family breakfast - my apartment is on the third floor and that's not easy to get to when walking with a cane, so I was very happy to have a place where I could still give my family a warm welcome.  I decided to take a page out of my time at IHOP and I cooked spinach and grilled onion omelets with bacon.  Everyone that ate was happy for the energy so they could sit through Church without falling asleep.  At Church, I sang two songs with the Ward Choir and taught my final Sunday School lesson before the visitors decided that they needed to get on the road and head south to Ian's if they were going to be alert enough.  I wished them "so long" until we'd see each later in the week.

On Christmas Eve, I joined my family at Ian's.  I was a bit overly ambitious with my baking that morning, but since I didn't have any physical presents for everyone, I wanted to make sure everyone had something to enjoy.  Before leaving my apartment, I made brownies, pfeffernusse cookies, and a double-sweet pumpkin pie to take with me.  Once at Ian's, I started making dinner, which was a roasted chicken with steamed quinoa, steamed carrots and apples, and a spinach salad (made by my mom).  Due to my overly ambition from earlier in the day, dinner was later than it should have been, but everyone agreed that it was tasty.

On Christmas day, we started the day with presents, mostly for Clara and Henry.  After presents were opened (to many screams of "This is just what I wanted!"), I started working on breakfast.  I hadn't planned on breakfast this day like I had for the previous Sunday, but I saw that Ian had some frozen blueberries and pancake mix, so of course I thought of blueberry pancakes - I made a quick compote and then just dropped frozen blueberries into the pancakes after putting the batter on the hot griddle.  Along with the scrambled eggs that Ian whipped up, it was a full breakfast.  Later that day, I put on a pork roast.  Not only was this meal ready on time, but it was really tasty, too.  It was served with steamed broccoli and buttered dinner rolls.

I know that I mostly wrote about food this post, but that's what I gave my family this year.  I do have a great job right now, but I only just started and it's difficult for me to give presents right now.  One thing that I can do, however, is provide service in the form of cooking and baking.  And my gifts went over very well with everyone - Ian even said that the two dinners that I cooked were some of the most complete meals he had had in a long time.  I was happy to provide some gifts that were not just enjoyable, but nutritious as well.

I hope everyone had a Happy Christmas!

Changing of the Guard

I was released from my calling as Gospel Doctrine teacher on Sunday.  I've been teaching Sunday School for a little over a year now, and it's been very rewarding.  In addition to helping me better understand the Old Testament (the Standard Work that I'm least familiar with), it also gave me a reason to make it to church.  In the last year, I've gone through two bouts of unemployment, which inevitably led to depression.  I know that having a responsibility that required me to make it to Church each week was a major blessing during those times.

Not only was I released, I was extended another calling: I'm the new Assistant Teacher's Quorum Adviser.  When I got the calling, I thought that it sounded like fun, but not terribly challenging.  I asked for a summary of my responsibilities and was told that I would help out in the Quorum and in the equivalent portion of the scouting program.  That means that I'll need to go camping ... about once a month.

I believe very strongly that we receive callings so that we can be taught something.  Yes, we bring something to the calling so that others can gain from our service, but there's some important lesson that we need to gain during our tenure.  I don't know what the specific lesson for me is, but it appears to include gaining some appreciation for sleeping on the ground (current ground-sleeping appreciation level: zero).

One nice thing that happened was that my introduction wasn't met with only blank stares.  The Simcik's son, Johnny, is a Teacher and not only insisted that I sit next to him when I arrived to the meeting room, he announced to everyone that "Jordan's awesome!"  I hadn't realized that I had had such a positive impact on him during our interactions, so I was surprised by his reaction.  We'll have to work on him calling me "Brother Larsen" while I'm serving in the capacity of my calling, but still a great welcome.

I may not know what challenges and responsibilities this calling will bring but I'm ready for what the Lord has planned for me.

The First Christmas

Read the new story here!

The Worst Part

I have said more than once that the worst thing about my job is the commute, but that's unfair.  Not because the company I work for has no control over how far their office is from where I live, but because having a longer commute has its benefits.

In the morning, I take time to pray vocally.  It's a wonderful experience to be able to converse with my Father in Heaven everyday.  Even in the short time that I've been working for Danfoss, I've received some revelations regarding challenges that I face and I don't think I would have gotten them if I hadn't set aside time every morning to have a conversation with Him.

After I pray, I drive in silence for a while.  Life is full of too many distractions, so it's nice to just drive and let my mind wander - introspection is not a terrible thing after all.

After a few minutes, I turn on the radio and listen to the news.  This may seem to contradict what I just said about having some quiet time, but this is actually important.  Working in an office, I'm obligated to make small talk with people from time to time.  While I don't have to be familiar with every recent event to get by, it's still a good idea to have at least a vague sense of what's happening in the world.

In the evening, I'm tired from a full day of work, so having something to occupy my mind is helpful in keeping me alert.  I've listened to a few podcasts, but I recently started listening to an audiobook.  Again, this is just in the evening, but it's something that I look forward to.

And so with a little creativity, the worst part of my job is not only not that bad anymore, but it's actually an important part of my day.

Building a Reputation

I've been working at Danfoss for just over two weeks now and I've only worked on a few assignments.  For the most part, I've spent my time either doing research or talking to people who are experts in their particular field.  It's been a slow start, but considering that I'm brand new to the HVAC industry, that shouldn't be surprising.

Despite my inexperience in this industry, I'm not a novice in my field.  Just a few weeks back, I was talking to my dad and excitedly telling him about a recent time when I realized that I was thinking like a technical writer.  And while I haven't fully adopted that way of thinking just yet, I'm able to get in that mindset easily enough that it's not a big deal any more.  And the people I work with have been noticing.

Last week I sent an email to one of the managers (I report only to the Marketing Manager, but I take assignments from the Product Manager and the Sales Manager, too) to ask some questions about a document that I was editing.  When he responded, he threw in something extra:

I have gotten some good feedback from people that have met you, and I think you have the right strategy with digesting the information and asking very direct questions.

That may seem like a something small, but it means that in the very short time that I've been with the company, I've already started making good impressions with people.  And it's a wonderful thing to do your job well and be noticed for it.  I can't wait until I get an assignment I can really sink my teeth into.

New Blog!

I've decided to launch a new blog dedicated to my fictional writings.  It is now easier than ever to read my short stories and other works of fiction by visiting thefictionalworksofjordanclarsen.blogspot.com, which is also a link on the right side of this blog.  It already has all of the stories previously posted on this blog and will be the new home of any new writing in the future.  In fact, there's a new story debuting there today, so follow the link and check it out!

As always, feedback is appreciated.

Job Satisfaction

Since I am now the go-to writer in my office, I was tasked this week with editing an article written for a trade magazine.  I was happy to oblige since it meant that I got to have an actual assignment, but I was surprised at the writer's style choices.

You see, while I was never given a company style guide (and had been told that we didn't have one), I went digging around on the company's intranet and found something close: a writer's guide.  The guide didn't teach me anything new, but it did give me some clear guidance on stylistic matters.  I bring this up because it was pretty clear that the article's writer had not seen the writer's guide.

For example, the writer's guide recommends using short sentences whenever possible.  I agree with this technique and often use it myself.  This article, however, was written with overly-long and complex sentence that were cumbersome to read at best and hard to follow at worst.

Another problem was repeated word usage.  In technical documents, even articles, it's important to establish a vocabulary and use it the same way each time, but only for the technical parts.  Since the article was about the benefits of different refrigerants, each fluid would need to be introduced and then only referred to by that name (you shouldn't bring up the trademarked "Puron" and then call it by its generic name "R-410A").  That said, the other words are not locked in and the writer seemed to not have a lot of creativity when it came to transitions and used the same two throughout the article.

Now, I don't fault the writer of this article for making these mistakes (the second issue wasn't even covered in the writer's guide), but they stood out to me.

This story is just an example of why my position in the company is necessary and why I already like my job so much.

Busy, Busy

You may have noticed that this post is uncharacteristically late.  That is because I may have stretched myself a bit too thin.

First of all, because of my commute, my work day is definitely on the long side.  Don't get me wrong, everything's going great, but I'm losing just under two hours everyday to the road.

Then, I hit the gym because if I don't, my stress levels can easily become unmanageable.  My stress levels are fine right now, but it's better to have the habits in place for when I start having more responsibilities.

Then on top of all of that, I have two choir practices to attend: one is the Ward Choir, the other is a basic quartet.  I was also in the Stake Choir, but I dropped out of that one because it was beyond what I could handle, at least right now.

What I'm saying is that by the time I got home last night, after a day of work, the gym, and choir practice, I just ate dinner and went to bed.  Things should be easier once the new year rolls around.

First Week at Danfoss

I'm sure that all of my faithful readers (all six of you, according to Blogger) are curious about my first week at my new job at the HVAC components manufacturer, Danfoss.  It was, well ... a little weird.

On Monday, I couldn't get up when my alarm went off and I fell back asleep.  I did wake up a few hours later though, this time in a panic.  I immediately called the office and said that I slept through my alarm - which is kind of true - and said I would get there as soon as I could.  I quickly got ready and left.  Thanks to it being the day after the Thanksgiving weekend, traffic was light and I got there in about twenty-five minutes.  I was supposed to be there at 8:30, but arrived at 10. Not a good start, but everyone was very understanding.  According to the HR Director, if I had been there on time, I would have just been waiting since she had had computer trouble for about an hour.  While it's never good to be late to work, if I had to do it, the first day is probably the day that will cause the least amount of damage to my standing with the company.  And rest easy: I was on time the rest of the week.

The first couple of days, I mostly read various HVAC pages on Wikipedia.  Danfoss has a site on its intranet called "E-Learning" that's designed to help newbies get up to speed in the HVAC market.  However, that site is down and won't be back up until January, so I spent some time reading up on Wikipedia.  That may sound lame, and it is a little, but I did learn a lot and I have a better understanding than if I hadn't spent my time reading.

What will my duties be?  A little bit of everything.  I was brought on, along with other employees, as part of an initiative called Project Boulder.  Project Boulder's purpose is to help the company go after "Millennials" who are entering the industry.  That means that as a company, Danfoss needs to reevaluate how it conducts business, and then make improvements.  I'll be helping to redesign the product packaging, instructions, advertisements in industry magazines, making how-to videos for installing the products, creating and reformatting catalogs, even writing articles for the previously mentioned industry magazines that push the company's products.  Like I said, a little bit of everything.

One of the other weird things that I learned was that I am the only member of the Marketing Department, aside from the Marketing Manager.  The week before I started, the two other members of the department resigned together (which sound a bit like a suicide pact).  What this means is that my boss is having to do the work of three people right now, which means that I'm not getting a lot of direction from her on how I use my time.  But since I'm working with so many different departments, that's not as big of an issue as it might otherwise be.  In fact, on Thursday, I asked the Product Manager if he had any documents for me to work on.  He gave me a catalog that needed updating, and I spent the next day-and-a-half reformatting the entire thing.  I showed him a quick look at some of the changes I had made and he was really pleased with the improvements.

The worst thing about my job is the commute, but even that's not too bad.  I take a tunnel to work - which does involve a toll - that shaves off at least twenty minutes from my route.  All told, my commute is between forty-five and fifty minutes each way.  Still, as long as the drive is less than an hour, I'm fine.

Overall, this week was a good one.  No, the start was not my best showing, but I think I made up for that pretty quickly.  I have a good feeling about this.

Amateur Professional

My sister, Margot, has a really nice camera.  I had a chance to mess around with it and take some pictures outside.  Even with my lousy picture taking skills, I think they look pretty nice.

 

Isn't it amazing what you can do when you have the right tools?

Thanksgiving 2014

I'm going to do something different this time and just let some pictures speak for themselves.  So, sit back and enjoy some visual proof that I had a great Thanksgiving and a Black Friday spent at the best mall there is: the National Mall.

 

I hope that everyone had a happy Thanksgiving.

The Hunt

I wrote most of this story while working at the temp job a couple of weeks back. It has some VERY SUBTLE symbolism that seemed appropriate for today.

Argus sat on the tree branch, waiting. The waiting was the hardest part of the hunt. Sharpening your weapons, reinforcing your cords, that was one thing: at least you were doing something. With waiting, all you did was, well, wait.

This hunt had lasted a few weeks, with little sign that his prey was close. In his youth, he had stalked his prey, but he now realized that wasn’t terribly practical – with each prey that came near, he’d have to change so much about his behavior to get close, and that was exhausting. So instead, he now puts out bait and sits, waiting.

Very subtly, Argus felt the air shift. The other creatures of the forest became very still and the silence that stayed behind was palpable. Now, the true test began. Argus gripped his lariat in his right hand, using only his forefinger to keep the loop in place, the excess cord held loosely in his left hand. All of his attention was focused on watching the tree line for his prey and being ready to pounce.

With little warning, four creatures exploded into the sky from the forest canopy. They flew without wings, propelled by some unknown force. Argus had only the briefest of moments to decide which prey to pursue. He could have chosen the fastest or the biggest one, but Argus had studied these creatures and knew that the best one to go after was simply the closest one. He adjusted his stance to a crouch and watched the flying creatures’ flight pattern. As soon as a creature was in range, Argus let his lariat fly. The cord found a home around the end of the long, rat-like tail and Argus let the coiled excess spill out. He watched the cord fly out after the lead and jumped from the tree just as the cord pulled his chest harness it was attached to.

This is where the hunt really got exciting, Argus thought as he climbed the cord up towards the creature. This close to his prey, he could see the details up close. The scales that covered its body were large and shimmering in the early morning light. The two limbs it had in place of arms were short numbs with a long, single claw attached to the ends. From his current position below and behind, he couldn’t see the head, but they all look about the same with their rodent-like teeth obscured by large, full lips and their soulless, black eyes, staring into nothingness. Truly, they are fearsome creatures to behold and many hunters have been intimidated on their first encounter, but Argus had grown accustomed to the chase.

He quickly scaled the cord and was soon climbing on to the creature itself. He had to move carefully to not cut himself on the sides of the large, hand-sized scales. His heavy boots and gloves provided some protection, but even some hunters that wore full armor had lost a limb simply to the scales. Every preparation in the world would mean nothing if one was careless in the moment. To help lend some stability, Argus pulled his pickaxe from its holster at the back of his belt. It was made from a previous kill’s claw, which was incredibly strong. With each swing of the axe down into the side of his prey, slowly moving Argus forward, the creature cried out with high-pitched, whistle-like screams, steam pouring out of the single nostril on the top of its head.

Despite the danger of traversing the creature as it swung its body about violently, Argus was soon at the head. He quickly holstered his pickaxe and unsheathed the sword on his back. The sword was built out of a bone from a previously killed creature with the edge made up of razor-sharp scales. He positioned the point of the sword directly over the nostril on the creature’s head – the only vulnerable part on the whole of the creature – and thrust downward. Rather than the whistle-like scream from before, the creature let out a deep bellow. As Argus’ body vibrated with the sound emanating from his prey, he pressed the sword deep into the creature’s brain, dark green blood pouring out of its head. Now the creature’s path was curving downward, unable to stay aloft through its mysterious means. Argus held tight to his sword, as much for stability as to ensure the death of his prey. Trees crashed around them as they plowed a path through the forest. With a thunderous crash, the creature met the ground, though it continued sliding for nearly a half-mile.

When the creature finally came to a stop, Argus – who was quite exhausted at this point – pulled out the mouth pipe from its loop on the left side of his belt. He took a deep breath and let out four distinct calls, a pattern that was unique to successful hunters. Soon, the village would arrive and help him harvest everything useful from his kill. He slowly began his climb down from the top of the animal. On the ground again, he took inventory of his extremities. Everything was accounted for, though he did have a few minor cuts and scrapes. Argus had known hunters that had lost fingers without realizing it, the thrill of the hunt had been so strong. If he had any wounds that needed attention, now was the time for it. However, without the need for first-aid, Argus sat down and leaned back against a still upright tree as he waited for the others.

He did not have to wait long. Just as he was truly getting comfortable, he heard the village’s chief call to him.

“Argus!” the older man called. “Quite the impressive jaub you have here.”

“Aye,” Argus called back, turning in the direction of his elder tribesman. “It will sustain our people for some time, Orion.”

“I think a jaub like this will offer much in food and textiles.” Orion was now in front of Argus and he extended his hand to help the other man to his feet. “I hope that the benefits of this one will also be bounteous, but we will not know for certain until we have sliced it open.”

“Please let me know the quality of the jaub when the assessment has been completed. Now excuse me, I must go and look for Eos.” Orion nodded and went to observe the deconstruction and appraisal of the newly landed jaub while Argus wearily began looking for his wife amongst the crowd that had formed. While he was searching, a hand lightly touched his shoulder, causing him to turn and look for the hand’s owner. He was met by the face of his wife, Eos, with her violet-grey eyes and reddish-blonde hair (though a few streaks of white had started to come in). She was carrying their young child, a boy named Aether.

“Quite the jaub you have landed, Argus,” she said to him, proudly. She turned to face Aether, “Your father is the best at finding and landing jaubs, young one.”

Argus looked at his little family, happy that he could provide a good life for them through his efforts. After all, everything comes from the jaubs that he lands: food, clothing, tools, medicine, even materials for their houses. In the past, hunters would go after other animals as prey, but no other creature provided as much to men as jaubs did, so now that was the only prey worth going after. Once the jaub was landed, other men and women of the village would deconstruct it down to the various components to be used. The various insides, called benefits, were especially valuable since they were essential components in medicines. However, no part of the jaub could be utilized without the jaub itself first being landed. In many ways, Argus thought, the hunter was the most important role in the village.

With his wife and child beside him, Argus slowly walked back to the village for a well-deserved rest. The hunt would begin again soon, but for now, he would enjoy his time off.

Thanksgiving Teaser

More to come ...

Feeling It

What to feel really old, even though you know you're not that old?  Go on splits with the full-time missionaries in your ward.  The conversation may include the following topics:

• When you served your mission (I completed my mission about a decade ago).
• What it was like when you served (months after I came home, usage of the discussions was discontinued).
• What music you like (the same genre as them, but you don't recognize any of the bands that they name that don't count as "classic rock").

I don't regret my time recently spent with the Elders, but man is it weird being on the other side of the interaction.

2-Dimensional

At the temp job I was working on Friday, the Office Manager gave me an assignment: using the normal receptionist's - excuse me, the Director of First Impression's* email account, I was to send out a proof of all of the new business cards about to be ordered for all of the real estate agents.  Now, my direct supervisor (whose title I don't recall) had already given me an assignment, but the Office Manager was her boss, so his assignment got the priority.

After some trouble logging-on to the email account, the Office Manager pulled up the website where all of the proofs were displayed.  Trying to show my eagerness to be of service, I offered to write a draft of the email with the condition that he would get to make any changes to it before I sent it out.  His response?  "No, I'm going to do it; I want to make sure it's done right."

Now, I'm guessing that this guy doesn't know that I've spent years working on my communication skills, particularly when it comes to writing - I mean, I was just a temp after all.  Even so, that's still so condescending that I practically had to check to make sure that I wasn't in a cartoon.  And the best part is that the email he wrote was woefully vague: he only gave instructions for what to do if the proof was correct, but no instructions on what to do if changes needed to be made.  However, having been so rudely rejected, I was not about to point out his flaws, so I copy-and-pasted his words for each email I sent out.  Sure enough, emails came flooding in from the agents with questions on how to correct errors on their business card proofs.

I've shared this experience with a few people already and everybody is pretty shocked that another actual human being could act like such pompous jerk.  I just laughed it off, seeing his failure as self-inflicted.  The worst part is that I'm sure that he has no idea what he did was even rude.  Oh well, at least I was just a temp and won't have to deal with this kind of buffoonery on a regular basis.

*This is a clear case of "job title inflation," like how employees at Subway are called "Sandwich Artists." At this rate, pretty soon a cashier at grocery stores will be called "Associate Director of Sales."

Bitter

Fernando poured a cup of coffee and passed it to Britta. She accepted the cup happily and breathed in the aroma. It was a cold, winter morning, so having some hot coffee would do her some good. She usually added creamer to her coffee, but she didn’t want to delay warming up, so she decided to take it black this time.

She looked at Fernando as he poured a cup for himself and thought about her feelings towards him. They were just friends – him with his girlfriend and her with Rick – but she often wondered if things would be different were they not tied down. Not that she wanted to break things off with Rick; she just wondered if she and Fernando would be compatible as a couple, or if being friends was for the best.

She continued thinking on the matter when she took her first sip of coffee. Not only was it still rather hot, it was also very strong. Strong and incredibly bitter. She looked back at Fernando and was suddenly annoyed at him. Why hadn’t he told her that the coffee was like this? Didn’t he care about her at all?

Her annoyance grew until she was not just angry, she was furious. All of the time that she and Fernando had spent hanging out and this is how he repays her friendship? He might as well slap her in the face. No, a slap in the face would be better than this. This was like a stab in the back.

Fernando turned to offer Britta some creamer, when he saw that she was glaring at him. He seemed to know what was going on and spoke up.

“Britta,” he said, “you can’t drink this coffee straight: it’s very bitter and can sometimes affect the drinker.” He opened a shot of French Vanilla creamer and held it out for his friend. “Drink this, it will help mellow out the coffee.”

Britta looked at him, scowling. “Don’t you mean it'll mellow me out?”

“Just drink it, Britta.”

“Why should I do anything you tell me to do, Fernando?” Britta asked, her words dripping with venom.

“Drink this and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Good,” Britta said as she grabbed the shot and threw her head back as she downed the contents. Suddenly, she wasn’t angry anymore. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she had been angry at all. She looked at her friend. “What happened?”

“I forgot to tell you,” Fernando explained, “this is pure, uncut Columbian coffee that my tia sent me. It can be a bit strong for the uninitiated. It sometimes makes the drinker as bitter as the coffee itself. Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Britta said, still a little surprised at what had happened. She looked at Fernando and thought about how he was such a good friend. Here he was sharing with her something that his aunt had sent him. That was just like him to be so kind. Maybe if things were different …

"How May I Direct Your Call?"

I got another temp job.  This one is just for a day-and-a-half, but it's something.

I was called late in the morning yesterday by the temp agency to find out if I was interested in working as a receptionist.  I, of course, jumped at the chance to work some more, so I was at work just before noon.  Today it will be more of the same, but I'll be there the whole day.

The client company this time is a real estate firm, so I'm surrounded by salespeople.  Sales and I don't get along well, so while I'm there, I feel a little out of place.  Plus, this is a really hard core firm because they charge each employee for the brochures that they send out, each sign that they place on a property, even each page that they print.  It's kind of ridiculous.  Then again, the service that I provide for companies is to write, which often means reviewing, sometimes on physical paper.  That's like charging an old fashioned accountant for the pencils he uses.  It's just a part of the job, people.

Anyway, in between answering the phone, I spent my time scanning documents into the network for digital storage.  By the end of the day, the portable phone I had kept on me when I was away from the desk had a low battery, so I just had to sit at the desk.  I decided to spend my time productively, so I wrote something.  It'll be posted tomorrow if anyone's interested.

It does feel good to be working again, even if it's just for a day-and-a-half.

Natural Living

Angie stared out of her bedroom window. From her vantage point, she could see into her neighbor’s backyard, the same backyard where she and her husband had eaten dinner last night. She looked on, frozen with a bizarre mixture of emotions, as her neighbor’s young son was pooping on the grass.

“Eric,” Angie called. Her husband walked out of the adjoining bathroom where he had been brushing his teeth.

“Mrlph?” he questioned, his words obscured as he wiped his mouth with a hand towel, walking towards her. “What’s up, Ange?”

“Remember dinner last night at the Wright’s?”

“Babe, why would I forget? It was just last night. Plus, I still can’t get the taste of kale out of my mouth.”

Without saying a word, Angie pointed towards the young boy who was now running around the backyard, completely naked.

“Is that Grover?” Eric asked, squinting his eyes. “And is he naked?”

“Yeah, but that’s not even the weirdest thing. Just, like, a minute a go, I saw him pooping. Right on the grass, too.”

“No way!” Eric said is disbelief. “Like, what, he was just squatting and taking a dump?”

“Yeah! I mean, he’s only three, but that’s still super gross. Why would Wayne and Verona let him do that?”

“Come on, they don’t know this is happening. I’m sure Grover just got up before them and he’s, y’know, being a kid.”

“You used to poop outside as a kid?” Angie asked incredulously, turning to face her husband, one eyebrow raised.

“That’s not what I meant,” Eric said, putting his hands lovingly about his wife’s waist. “Just that he’s doing something dumb and weird.”

“We need to tell them about this. He shouldn’t be allowed outside, especially to go to the bathroom.”

“Whoa, hold on, Angie,” Eric said, his voice becoming serious. “You can’t just order them around.”

“I’m not ordering anyone to do anything,” Angie said, walking towards the nightstand on her side of the bed. “I’m just going to let them know what’s happening and they’ll obviously take care of it.” Angie picked up her cell phone and started scrolling through the contact list. “What’s their number?”

“I don’t know; I never got it.”

“Fine. I’ll walk over and tell her.” Angie walked over to the closet and began to change out of her pajamas

“Please don’t make a thing out of this,” Eric said to her from his spot in front of the window.

“I’m not making a ‘thing’ out of this. There’s nothing to make out of it. I’m just going to ring their bell, tell them that their son is running around like a wild animal, and then I’m going for a run.”

“Just try to be careful how you tell them.”

Angie walked out of the closet, now wearing running shorts and a t-shirt and carrying a balled-up pair of socks in one hand and her running shoes in the other. She sat down on the edge of the bed to put them on. “It’s fine, Eric,” she said without looking up.

“I just mean that some people might be offended to have their child described as ‘a wild animal.’”

“Obviously I’m not going to use those exact words,” Angie said, a little annoyed. Having tied her shoes, she walked into the bathroom and started brushing her hair. “I’ll be back in, like, thirty minutes and we’ll have breakfast.” She stopped and turned to look Eric in the eye. “I promise that I won’t be offensive, okay?”

“Alright,” Eric said, not pushing the matter further. “I’ll have breakfast ready when you get home.” He turned and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

Angie returned to brushing her dark, curly hair. It was so frustrating that Eric was more concerned about not offending their weird neighbors than taking her side. She just wanted him to listen to her and see her side of things. She decided that she was brushing her hair a little too hard, probably because she was annoyed with her husband. She pulled her hair into a pony tail with a hair-tie and pulled a head band out of a drawer to further keep her unruly hair in place. Clearly, her Puerto Rican ancestors had never considered how big, think, curly hair would make exercising so uncomfortable. She applied some deodorant and left the bathroom.

She grabbed her phone and slid it into its armband case which she put on her left upper-arm. She picked up her earbuds and started untangling them as she walked down the stairs. When she made it to the bottom, she said “bye” to Eric, who replied in kind, and walked out the door.

It was still pretty early, at least for a Saturday, so the street was mostly empty. That would make running easier. Angie was still annoyed at Eric for not being supportive, but she had a feeling there was more to her state than was obvious at the surface. Sometimes that happened. Even though she didn’t know what was bothering her, she knew that her run would help. Running always seemed to clear her head and after watching a little boy poop in his backyard, she needed her mind cleared out.

~~~

As Katy Perry’s “Roar” played in her ears, Angie ran. This run was different than usual. Normally when she ran, the running was the point. This time, it felt like she was running away from something. She reviewed the recent conversation in her mind, looking for reason in the confusion. She had rung the doorbell of the Wright’s home and was greeted by Verona.

“Oh hi, Angela!” Verona said, smiling broadly. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, hi” Angie said, smiling nervously. “And Angie’s fine. Anyway, I just stopped by to tell you that I saw Grover in your backyard and that you might want to check up on him, that’s all.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I know he’s back there. He can be a handful and letting him run around in the morning makes him more manageable.”

“Okay. Did you know that he’s naked?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Remember last night when I said that we like having everything ‘all natural’? I wasn’t just talking about food. Other animals don’t wear clothes, so why do we? Wayne and I are teaching Grover to not be ashamed of his body. Whenever we’re at home, we encourage him to wear as little as he wants to. It should be great for his self-esteem.”

Angie knew that Verona was kind of a hippie but this was really pushing the envelope. Suddenly, Angie didn’t want to waste any more time talking and just get to running.

“Right. Well, I also saw him, um, pooping. In the backyard. Just thought you should know.”

“I think that it’s barbaric to force our children to hold in their waste. No other animal besides humans wear diapers or use toilets. Obviously we can’t always live naturally and organically, but that’s only because society forces its norms on us and makes us assimilate. We want Grover to have as much freedom as possible, so yes, we let him relieve himself outside. Besides, human waste makes for wonderful fertilizer, so our garden is very healthy.”

Angie’s blood ran cold. “You mean you use your family’s poop as fertilizer for the food that we ate last night? Like the tomatoes and onions and kale we ate last night were grown out of your poop?”

“Yes! Isn’t it amazing what you can do when you go back to living organically? I like to think that some of our vegetables, I’ve eaten twice.”

~~~

Angie had felt suddenly queasy, something that happens when you find out your dinner the night before grew out of human-manure. She told Verona that she just wanted to make sure that Grover was okay, but she had get going for her morning run.

Having finished her two miles, she thought about going farther, as if she could sweat out her uneasiness. She decided that the best thing to do was to go home and eat a new meal. She couldn’t un-eat dinner, but she could replace it with something new.

She walked through the front door and was greeted by the rich smell of bacon in the air. Eric’s cooking was usually simple, but it was also usually tasty. She went into the kitchen, still a little sweaty from her exercise, to find Eric sliding an omelette on to a dining plate, next to another plate with a matching omelette. She walked over to the fridge to grab a cold water bottle when she asked what kind of omelettes he had made.

“Well,” Eric replied, “the Wrights had sent us home with some kale, so I figured we should get rid of it right away. And you know how bacon can improve the taste of anything, so it should go down pretty easy. Babe, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Indeed, Angie was frozen in horror as she looked at her breakfast. After a moment (but what felt like an eternity) she finally was able to compose herself enough to say what was wrong.

“Eric,” Angie said, not taking her eyes off of the omelettes, “the Wrights make their own fertilizer.”

“Well, sure. Lots of people have compost heaps.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, turning to look her husband in the eye. “What I saw Grover doing this morning was making fertilizer.”

Suddenly, all of the color drained from Eric’s face. He moved quickly over to the sink and started making retching noises. Angie walked up behind him put a hand lovingly on his shoulder. Seeing him like this made her feel better. Not because he was dry-heaving, but because it meant that he was on her side. Their conversation this morning had made it feel like there was a distance between them, but here in the ugly-light of nausea, she could see that he was on her side. As gross as it was, it was also a beautiful moment.

After nearly a minute of dry-heaving, Eric stood up and turned to face his wife. “I am never eating anything from their garden again,” he said, his grey-blue eyes full of moisture. He looked over in disgust at what he had made for breakfast. “What’s the opposite of garden-fresh vegetables?”

Angie couldn’t help but laugh a little before she replied. “Probably bacon.”

“Bacon alone is no match for manure-fed kale. Let’s go to McDonald’s.”

Angie nodded in agreement, gently smiling.

As she climbed into the passenger seat of the car as Eric held the door for her, Angie was happy for the weird morning she had had. It was frustrating to have Eric disagree with her, but if they hadn’t disagreed, it wouldn’t have felt so good when they were back in agreement. If it took having the argument to get to the happy moment of being equally grossed-out by their neighbors, she was glad to have gone through it all.

Though she doubted that they’d ever eat kale again.

Friends Indeed

After such a stressful week, I said a prayer as I drove home on Friday.  I started to have a pretty severe panic attack - thinking about how I lost my source of income due to my conscience when I still have plenty of bills was too much to handle.  It was so bad, that I lost the ability to speak, even in prayer.  I got the idea that I needed a priesthood blessing and I thought about the Simciks whose house was on the way home.  I decided to follow the prompting and went to their home.

When I got there, Lori answered the door (I haven't mentioned before, but Mark and Lori are in their mid-fifties and I think of them as a sort of aunt and uncle to me).  In a stuttering voice, I asked if Mark was home.  She said he wasn't but asked if there was anything she could help me with.  I tried to explain what had happened, but I couldn't make any sense.  I was stuttering so bad and pausing so long, it was like I wasn't even talking.  It became too much for me and I broke down crying.  Lori asked me to have a seat and she got a box of tissues for me.  The act of crying was somewhat cathartic and I was able to start talking again.  I explained what had happened and why it was so hard for me to deal with.  Lori was very kind and just talked with me for a while as I calmed down.  She also shared about a difficult time in her life that seemed to be too much at the time, but also helped her become stronger.  It really helped to have some empathy from someone that could relate to going through hard times.

We ended up just talking for a while.  Feeling much better, I was about to excuse myself to go (I was going to see if I could stop by my home teacher's house to get a blessing) when Mark called to say he was on his way home.  Lori briefly told him that I had stopped by to see if I could get a priesthood blessing and that I was still there.  Mark asked that I stayed until he got there and he'd be happy to fulfill my request.  Mark provided the blessing once he got home, which was exactly what I needed.  I still don't know what I'm going to do about all of my bills, but I was promised that it would work out.  Then they asked me to join them for dinner and we went to a Korean restaurant.

More than anything else about this situation, I'm happy to know that I have people in my life that I consider friends that are available when I need to talk.  It's kind of weird because they're old enough to be my parents (though I'm still older than their oldest child), but it's clear that we're close friends.  Just knowing that I have some friends to turn to is worth losing a job over.

The Price of Honesty

As I posted last week, I was able to find a temp job doing data entry work for the time before my real job starts on December 1st.  I started working at the temp-client company on Monday.  I knew that the job would last beyond what I was available, but I didn't have all of the details.

As it turned out, I was replacing a woman who was preparing to go on maternity leave and she was training me to do her job before she left.  That made me feel bad because when I would be leaving, someone else would have to train my replacement, taking them away from their responsibilities.  Even so, I followed my directions from the temp agency and didn't say anything about having a real job that would be starting during the time I was contracted to work.

I was learning the job well and everyone was saying how quickly I was picking it all up and how they liked what I was doing.  Plus, everybody was really nice and offered help constantly.  But I kept feeling bad about being dishonest.  A lot of comments were made about how I was really going to be helpful during my time there and how the various holiday parties are a lot of fun.  It was one thing to not say anything when no one was mentioning the length of my employment, but it seemed like people were bringing it up all the time.

At the end of the day on Tuesday, I found out that the woman I'd be covering for would be staying longer than expected.  She was originally scheduled for a C-section because the baby was in the wrong position, but after her final ultrasound she found out that the baby had moved to the right place so her doctor cancelled the C-section.  Her due date isn't until the Monday before Thanksgiving.

After the change of plans, I really had trouble sleeping.  On the one hand, I didn't want to keep being dishonest, but on the other hand, I really needed this job.  Working the two-and-half weeks before Thanksgiving would really help me be better financially prepared for when my real job starts.

Thursday night, I decided that I needed some advice.  I called my folks and talked them through everything and they suggested that I bring it up with my supervisor at the temp agency.  She's my boss, so if we could come up with a solution, she should be involved.  I was hoping that we'd be able to work something out so that I could still keep the temp job, but I was also prepared to be let go.

The next day, I called my supervisor on my lunch break.  I brought her up to speed on how I felt and she told me that I was the best candidate that the client-company had seen and they were really keen to have me for the job.  Apparently, they had been conducting interviews for weeks and were about to settle on someone when I came along.  That did help me feel better about having taken the job in the first place, but I still was uncomfortable staying under false pretenses.  I asked my supervisor to tell the client-company and I agreed to whatever was decided.

At the end of the work day, the department head at the client-company came into the office I was working in and congratulated me on getting a job and told me that she was sorry that I couldn't stay longer and that they had to replace me.  I thanked her for providing such a nice work environment and gathered my stuff and left.

I called my supervisor at the temp agency and confirmed if I was let go (I was).  She told me that the client-company held no ill-will against me and wanted to have me back for other jobs should I become available.  I'm glad that I left such a good impression with them, but it still sucks that I don't have work now.  The temp-supervisor agreed to call me if there were any jobs that come up between now and December 1st.  She said that with Thanksgiving fast approaching, it's likely that people will call out at the last second and will need to be replaced, so just in case, I'll be dressed and ready to leave around 7:30 am every workday from now until I start my job.  Hopefully keeping the routine won't be in vain.

While I'm sad that I lost the temp job, I don't regret my actions.  I made a stand based on my beliefs and following the Spirit, so even the job is gone, I've gained more than I lost.

Cultural Divide

Yesterday evening, when Samuel got home from work, I greeted him and asked him how he was doing. His reply was a simple "good."  When I asked how his work day went, he again went the simple route: "busy."

I was preparing my dinner, so I was happy to keep our conversation brief, but I made a few comments about how a busy day can make the work day go faster.  He then brought up that he had had an awkward encounter with his manager.  On his lunch break, Samuel stepped outside to call his wife to find out about a court appearance that she made on his behalf (he needs to get some documents to help his immigration case in the US, so she was appearing in court to obtain the documents).  Unfortunately, she missed the appearance.  In Nigerian culture, when someone shows you disrespect, it is normal to shout and berate that person until they are more respectful, which is exactly what Samuel did when talking to his wife.  His manager overheard Samuel shouting in Yoruba and asked what happened.  When Samuel explained, the manager was not very understanding and made some comments about how Samuel was being abusive.  (By the way, they were able to schedule another court appearance for today, so everything should be fine.)

Hearing Samuel's story - and knowing a little bit more about his culture than the average American - I suggested that he try to not be so public with his personal issues, not because he was wrong, but because his actions could be misinterpreted.

From the other side of things, Samuel expressed his frustrations with someone that he met soon after moving to Maryland.  A member of our ward asked Samuel a lot of questions about his situation, so he went into great detail about what he was going through.  The member offered his condolences and went on his way.  To Samuel, a person would only ask personal questions if they were willing to offer help - either financial or emotional.  So when he shared such deeply intimate things, he was shocked to get little more than a "that's too bad."

And that's when Samuel starting learning more about American culture.  We tend to be friendly with one another, even to people that we just meet, but we ask personal questions as a way to get to know each other.  And if you think about it, that's pretty weird.  I mean, yeah, it makes sense to ask questions to get to know someone better, but doesn't it make more sense to make small talk about general topics ("You catch the game last night?") rather than more personal stuff ("I see you're wearing a wedding ring; got any kids?")?  Another problem is that when we ask these sorts of questions, we're not expecting the person to air their dirty laundry.  If you greet someone by asking them "How're you doing?", and they answer with anything other than a positive response, it feels super awkward.  You probably think that they're being rude by complaining, while they probably think that they're just being honest.

I expressed to Samuel that I am very careful about who I talk to about my own situation.  For example, it is mostly well known in my ward that I'm married but separated, but other than the Bishop, only two people know more than that.  Occasionally, someone will ask for more detail as to why we're separated (which I see as ridiculously rude), but I'll only ever give a vague answer like "it's complicated."

Samuel seems to be gaining a better understanding American culture (really, greater Baltimore-area culture), it's just unfortunate that a lot of his lessons are learned by making faux pas.  Hopefully that just means that the lessons will stick.