Manipulation

One of my current assignments at work is a product catalog. I've worked on catalogs before, but with this particular one, I had trouble finding a photograph of one product. I searched two separate databases and came up empty. After googling the product, I did find one picture, but it was from an eBay auction and we couldn't used it in its current form.

The product (in this case, an electronic controller, which is like a high-end thermostat) is at a weird angle with bad lighting and sitting on a cluttered table. Even so, I used the picture as a reference when I sought the help of Danfoss' data management team. I specifically mentioned that the above photo was only meant to be used as a reference, but my contact simply changed the file type and sent it back to me.

I decided to see what I could do with Photoshop. I spent a few hours correcting the color, distorting the image shape, and cutting out extraneous objects. This is the result:

It's not perfect, but I was really happy with what I was able to accomplish, especially since I mostly taught myself how to use Photoshop. However, even after the office lawyer said that we would probably be fine to use the image, I decided to pursue getting a better photograph. As it happened, we had had a sample of the product in the warehouse the whole time. So, I took a brand new picture with proper lighting and the office's camera.

I admit that that the stainless steel reflected the light a lot more than I thought it would, so I may go back and try to cut the glare down, either by fiddling with it in Photoshop or by taking a brand new picture and change where the lights are positioned, but I'm still happy that I took a new picture that cannot be legally disputed.

Still, it was pretty cool what I able to with that first picture, right?

QSG

At work this year, I was tasked with updating the main catalog used in North America, the Quick Select Guide or QSG. Since I was in the role of project manager for this document, I decided to not just simply update the code numbers and add a few new products, but to overhaul its entire design. I wanted to make the catalog easier to use while also making it look more like the catalogs the corporate office in Denmark makes for Europe. That meant that we had to start from scratch and rebuild it from the ground up. And it was most definitely "we" because my skills in InDesign, the program the catalog was created in, are lacking. So I enlisted the help of a freelancer, Holly, whom my department uses on a regular basis.

I had been emailing Holly and collecting all of the necessary data and files when, in the second week of February, I was provided with the last pieces we needed so that we could begin. I was then told that we needed the new catalog to be printed in March. That may not seem like a big deal, but for a sixty page document, this was basically no time. I worked through the last preparations I had and sent everything off to Holly. For two weeks, we worked at a feverish pace. I regularly stayed about ninety minutes late and often worked through my lunch break. At the end of two weeks, we were done! I almost couldn't believe it, but we finished with enough time so that two segment managers could have a week to review it before the end of the month. My boss, Magda, told me that she noticed my hard work and how much she appreciated my efforts. I sent off the QSG for review, walked out the office door, and started laughing just from the relief of having finished a stressful project.

Or so I thought.

I came back in the following Monday to see emails that the reviewers weren't going to even attempt to get to the QSG for at least a week. Wonderful... I did eventually get the feedback I needed from one of the two segment managers, but the other one was not giving the QSG priority. I suspect that he was annoyed that I was making so many changes to it since he had been the one to originally design it. To be fair, his catalog had worked for several years, but again, being fair, he's not a technical writer and he doesn't have a background in document design. Just because it had worked, doesn't mean we couldn't do it better.

After some meetings, several edits, and lots of cajoling from me, we finally placed our print order last Friday. Only two months after we originally planned.

One thing that I think is cool is that my initials are on the catalog. In Danfoss, whenever a new document is released, it has a literature number, a publication date, and the initials of the main author (mostly so we know who to blame if an error is found). As a technical writer, I've gotten used to being invisible and letting my writing stand for itself, but I still like the fact that I'm getting credit for this document.

Even though the catalog has been approved, there's been a delay in posting it on the Danfoss website. Once it's up, I'll share a link to it. It's not a fun read, but as far as catalogs go, it's a pretty one.

Aphasia Strikes Again

On Monday, at about 3:30 in the afternoon, with about ninety minutes left in the work day, I had an aphasic episode. I've had episodes like this plenty of times before, but this time I was medicated and I wasn't in the middle of transitioning to a new medication.

When it hit me, I was listening to a podcast and immediately lost the ability to understand anything that was said (I recognized all the words as English, but I had no idea what any of it meant). I also felt exhausted and struggled to stay awake -- not that it mattered since I wasn't able to read or write while I was in the throws of the episode. After about twenty minutes, I was able understand what I was listening to, but I was still exhausted and couldn't concentrate. After about five minutes of futilely trying to be productive, I stood up and walked over to the desk of my boss, Magda.

She was talking with one of my coworkers, Chelsea, so I waited for a break in the conversation before speaking up. Before I had the chance to interject, Magda looked up and asked what was wrong (apparently, the feeling of extreme exhaustion was all over my face). I explained what happened, describing aphasia as a kind of micro-seizure, and said I needed to go home. She was completely understanding and Chelsea offered to drive me, which I declined -- I've had aphasic episodes while driving before and never blacked out, so I figured I was fine.

As I drove home, I talked to Leah on the phone. She also expressed concern about me driving while in my fatigued state, but I assured her I was fine. Almost on cue, I felt another aphasic episode begin before evaporating (I can feel them just before they hit, though sometimes they pass). She told me I was lucky and that I should have accepted Chelsea's offer for a ride.

The next morning, I woke up and felt sick. It felt like I had the flu and I was physically weak. I worked from home, though I was not terribly productive. Thankfully, I felt better this morning and was able to put in a full day at the office.

After talking about what happened with my neurologist, she recommended increasing my medication dosage. We increased the dosage for a few weeks last year when I first transitioned onto oxcarbazepine and it made me really drowsy. My neurologist thinks that this time I'll handle it better since my body has acclimated to the medication, but if I feel overwhelmingly tired like I did before, she has a supplemental medication in mind that we can try. For now, we're going to wait and see if simply increasing the dosage will be sufficient.

Perhaps I was foolish to think that my epilepsy problem was solved since it was under control. Maybe my life will be segmented by periods of being in control, punctuated by times when I have to look for new solutions. While I'd rather not have to worry about my epilepsy, it's under control for now and we have a possible remedy lined up if I start to show symptoms again, so things are still pretty good.

Food Guru

As I was leaving work yesterday, one of my coworkers, Chelsea, stopped me to ask a question.  I was not happy with the idea of staying late, but I paused so she could ask her question.  Instead of being a work-related question, however, she wanted cooking advice.

She wanted a quick way to cook zucchini and had asked around and even checked Pinterest for a recipe, but hadn't found anything helpful.  I thought about her dilemma and asked her how comfortable she was using her broiler.  She immediately nodded, acknowledging that she hadn't thought of going that route.  I further explained that she would need to flip the vegetable (which was something she hadn't realized was necessary) and suggested some ways to prepare it that would make that easier.  She thanked me for my help and I was on my way.

I followed up with Chelsea this morning to see how it went.  Apparently, she hadn't been patient enough for the zucchini to get crispy, but it was fully cooked when she ate it.

I wasn't expecting the cooking question that I received, but it's nice to know that I have a reputation as a cooking expert and that I can live up to it.

Full Weekend

I know that it's a cliche that Mondays are so hard because they destroy our weekends, but I think Mondays are one of my favorite days of the workweek: everyone's coming back from the weekend, so expectations are lower compared to other days and it's the beginning of the week, so you aren't burned out from the corporate grind yet.  It's a nice balance.  And occasionally, it's nice to come back to work after a long, busy weekend.  The latter is what I experienced today.

What happened that wore me out?

• On Friday after work, I drove to DC for a joint-ward baptismal temple trip; afterwards, I went and got food with some girls from my ward, plus Jenn (the girl I met at the temple a couple of weeks ago -- we've decided to be friends, so it was nice to see her again)
• On Saturday, I went to the Post Office right as it opened in order to pick up a package (a new Kitchenaid stand mixer that my mom sent me -- thanks, Mom!) and then went to the church to help clean: I was the only representative from the Elder's Quorum (and I was late)
• Also on Saturday, I laid out by my apartment complex's pool; at my dermatology appointment last week, I was diagnosed with vitiligo and the doctor recommended that I get more sun exposure, so I figured that I might as well try to get a tan on my torso as well (yes, I'm sunburned, but only mildly so)
• In preparation for Sunday, I used my new mixer to make some double chocolate cookies
• On Sunday, I taught Sunday School -- it's not a new calling, I was just filling in for the regular teach who was on vacation; I incorporated the cookies into my lesson and then passed them out (and then I made sure the leftovers were passed around in Relief Society)
• My lesson apparently made an impact because after priesthood meeting, the bishop called me aside to tell me that he had gotten some positive feedback from some of those who attended the lesson (and he didn't even mention the cookies) -- I guess word travels fast
• After church, I asked if anyone wanted to go to a fireside at the DC Temple Visitor's Center that evening, saying that I would be happy to drive, I just didn't want to go alone
• I thought it was a YSA fireside; it wasn't
• My passengers were a sister who was baptized about about ten months ago and a brother who had just moved in the Friday before; I think they both got more out of the fireside that I did (I don't regret going, I was just really annoyed at myself for misunderstanding the nature of the meeting)
• After dropping people off, it was nearly 10 PM by the time I got home (for those keeping score at home, that's two trips to DC and back in three days)

As you can see, I had a valid reason for looking forward to starting work again today: I needed a regular work day just to take a break.

Cumbersome Clothes

I've had a rough week.  I had a big long drive on Monday to and from Annapolis for my dermatology appointment.  Then, in the evening, I attended Family Home Evening with the Singles' Ward, which meant a twenty-five minute drive each way to the chapel.  On Tuesday, I had a big long day working with the video production team, which saw me take a late lunch and not leave the office until after 7 PM.  Then this morning, I got to work just after 7 AM because my apartment complex sent out a notice demanding that all residents vacate their cars by 7 so that they could repave the parking lots and I figured I might as well go in to the office early.

All of this really wore me out.  When I was at work, I described how I felt to one of my coworkers as feeling like I was wearing a suit made out of mattresses.  It sounds silly, but all of my limbs felt overly large and heavy.  It took me until about 3:30 to figure out that I actually had a fever, but once I did, I got permission to go home (only find that my lot hadn't even been paved).  Hopefully, all I need is rest in order to recuperate because I'm tired of wearing my phantom mattress suit.

Tuesdays with Media: Patriotic Compressor

For the Independence Day tweet from my office, I took a blue reciprocating compressor and spray painted an American flag on it.  The stencils I used I had to hand-cut myself and, despite never having done this sort of thing before, I think it turned out really well.

My boss, Magda, hadn't seen the finished product until this morning and when she did she was floored.  She kept saying things like "Wow!" and "That's amazing!"  Plus, even though the photo has only been online for a short time, it's the second most retweeted post we've ever had (the title holder is still the one from Valentine's Day).  Here's what the process looked like:

This was a weird project to work on, but I'm glad I did it; I had a lot of fun.

My Happy Place

Today was frustrating.  I won't going into the specifics, just know that someone I needed information from chose today to be a terrible communicator.  It really got under my skin, to the point that I was really distracted for the last part of my workday.

Once I was out of the office, I contemplated doing what I would have done when I was still on levetiracetam and depressed: binge on takeout food.  But I reminded myself that I've made a lot of progress (I've lost nearly twenty pounds in a little under three months) and that I didn't want to bring back destructive habits -- I actually have a personal rule in place where I'm not allowed to go to a restaurant by myself.  But in my agitated state, I still wanted something new (or at least unusual) for dinner.  So, I googled a recipe and went shopping.

Once I got home with everything I needed for garlic butter shrimp pasta, I started cooking.  I don't know when it happened, but suddenly, I wasn't upset anymore.  I was too busy enjoying the aromas of the spices and the feel of the ingredients as I added them to the pan -- I also liked the music I was playing to set the mood (I was making Italian food, so probably should have played Sinatra or Guaraldi, but I played prog metal bands Sea in the Sky and Scale the Summit).  And to top it off, the meal was delicious.

It's good to know that when other people get me down, I can just cook my blues away.

Chance Coincidence

I had the missionaries over for dinner last night (a different pair than before) and the Elder who gave the spiritual thought challenged me to share the gospel with someone soon.  I said I had a coworker in mind who might be ready, so I accepted the challenge.  Now, this particular coworker who I had in mind, is away at a trade show until sometime next week, so I didn't think too much of the Elder's challenge, at least for now.

At work today, I sent an email to someone and jokingly used the word moron (facetiously referring to myself).  This email was deemed humorous enough to be shared with a few friends, one of whom was the receptionist.  The receptionist responded back with a joke about how I left out the second M (making "moron" into "Mormon"), though only to her friend that sent it to her and not to me.  After all of this happened unbeknownst to me, I went and asked the receptionist an unrelated question.  Once she answered my question, she shared her joke with me, not realizing that it's a joke that I've heard off and on since high school.  And then, because I'm an explainer, I gave her a brief summary of the word Mormon (the prophet, the book, and the nickname for the church).

With that completed, I was going to walk back to my desk, but she asked another question: what do Mormons believe about karma?  (Not sure how she made that leap.)  So, I gave the Golden Rule as a quick answer, but then I delved a little deeper.  I explained that while we should do good, that doesn't mean that only good things will happen to us.  Sometimes bad things happen to us because of either our own or others' free agency or because God is placing an obstacle in our way so that when we overcome it, we're better for it.  I closed by quoting my current favorite scripture, 2 Nephi 5:27: "...we lived after the manner of happiness."  This seemed to really connect with her and she thanked me for sharing, adding "I needed that."  Before I walked away, I asked if she was interested in a Book of Mormon.  She said she was.

I wasn't planning that encounter and I'm not saying that it happened because the Elder challenged me to talk to someone, but it did all line up pretty well.  I don't know if anything will come of this exchange, but I'm glad I opened my mouth.

Pass Me the Bucket!

Imagine you're in a bucket brigade putting out a house fire.  There's only one bucket, so it takes a while until it gets to you so you can dump water on the fire.  The home owner is watching nearby and is understandably anxious.  They start to yell at you to work faster and save their home, which might be understandable, but they're only yelling at you, not anyone else in the line.  You try to explain that you can't actually throw the water on the fire until you have said water.  They don't seem to understand and say that you're letting their house burn down, why won't you save it?  Again, you explain that once the water comes to you, you'll throw it on the fire.  Finally, they seem to understand just as you're handed the bucket.

As I've explained before, I often have to copyedit documents that explain changes to products or packing.  Sometimes these documents detail errors in manufacturing and need to be sent out as soon as possible.  One recent change to the processing of these documents (that came out of the experience I linked to) is that before I can do any editing, the documents need to be proofread by someone for technical content.  I'm all for that, since it should prevent errors like before.  However, not everyone seemed to understand the new process.  I got calls from two separate product managers asking me to copyedit their documents right away, without waiting for the email of approval from the technical proofreader.  They both understood why we had that particular process in place, but they both followed up with "Once it's approved, we need you to edit it right away," or something similar.

I'm happy that my reputation is continuing to spread throughout the company (one of the managers said that my edits vastly improve the documents he sends me), but it's frustrating that the new step in the process has not been properly communicated.

Four by Jordan

At work today, one of my coworkers, Michael, was describing a banner he was planning to order for an upcoming trade show to our boss, Magda.  When asked how big it would be, Michael gave the dimensions he had chosen: four feet by six feet.  Unfortunately, Magda is unfamiliar with US standard measurements since she's from from Europe, so she needed further clarification.  Before anyone else could respond, Micheal said "It's as long as Jordan is tall."  Magda asked me to stand up to help her better imagine the banner.  And it worked.  She nodded her head and approved the banner's size.

This experience reminds me of a prank I heard about that happened at Harvard back in the late fifties.  A fraternity used one of its member named Oliver Smoot to measure a bridge, repeatedly picking and moving Smoot over and over again until they had crossed the length of the bridge.  One Smoot equals five feet seven inches and the bridge totaled 364.4 Smoots (plus or minus one ear).  To this day, Smoots are occasionally used as a humorous length, as someone might also use archaic measurements, like cubits or rods, for fun.

While one Jordan really equals six feet one inch, it was close enough for today's purposes and got a chuckle out of those in the room (including me!).

Ten Years Ago

I was thinking today that things are very different for me than they were in 2006.  That was the year that I first experienced being let go.

Prior to that year, I had only ever quit my jobs, giving proper notice each time.  But I decided that I was ready for something new, so I took a job in construction.  I had never done anything like it before and it showed.  Three-and-a-half weeks in, I was let go (the reason I was given was that, despite my learning the job at a fast pace, there was just too much work to do, so someone with a couple of decades in the field was being hired as my replacement).  I hated working construction, so I was happy to have a reason to not do it any more, but it felt weird suddenly not having a job.  I remember feeling like I would find something new right away, but I was still worried that I wouldn't.

Two-and-a-half months later, I finally started my next job, this time in a printing house.  It was a decent job with nice perks, but the tight schedule meant that I couldn't continue taking classes at the community college I had been attending.  So, after another five months, I gave my two week notice without having my next job lined up.  This was different than before, not just because I was the one who terminated my employment, but because I had prayed about it and felt that I would be okay.  Sure enough, I found something in time so that I was able to start the new job without any down time.  That new job was with BNi, a company I worked for under different capacities for three years, still the longest stint I've had at one location.

While 2006 was my first experience with being let go, it would sadly not be my last -- I was even straight-up fired a couple of times.  Still, looking back, I learned a lot and I can certainly say that I'm in a better place than I was a decade ago.

The Unrelenting Manager from Another Department

There was a bit of a kerfuffle at work this week, but the story actually started a few weeks ago.

One of my responsibilities at work is to copyedit documents that address changes to products or policies.  The change is usually something small, like a product made in the factory in China will now be made in the factory in Mexico.  These are internal documents, but if customers need to be informed about the change, a letter will be drafted for them, though they’re usually just like the internal documents but without certain details (because the information is irrelevant to customers or it’s something the company doesn’t want made public).  I do not write either of these documents, I merely copyedit them.  The document author is usually an engineer and a non-native English speaker, so some wording hiccups are expected.

This is not one of my main responsibilities and I’ve even been instructed to not copyedit anything beyond these documents (unless instructed by one of my direct managers) because as the only English-speaking technical writer in a global company, I could easily spend all of my time copyediting and still never finish everything.  However, the internal documents and customer letters are the exception.

A few weeks ago, I went through the same process where I copyedited the two documents and sent them back to be approved and distributed.  This time, however, I left in some company jargon in the customer letter because I didn’t recognize it for what it was.  When some of the upper managers saw it, they panicked.  I got a call from a manager I had never heard of (apparently, he’s right below the VP for my segment) to go over the letter.  He was polite and didn’t blame me for what had happened and was instead focused on how to fix the problem.  I quickly made the changes he asked for and submitted it.  So, an unfortunate mishap occurred, but we quickly fixed it.

A couple of days later, I got an email from the new manager of Product Information (they handle document coordination and archiving) asking me and the other people involved to explain our roles in the process of handling these documents.  I noticed that my boss, Magda, had not been included in the conversation, so I forwarded her the email and told her how I would respond, to which she agreed.  I explained my role to the head of Product Information (PI) as I did above and I thought that would be the end of it.  Well, the next week I get another email asking for a more information: not only was I to better define my own role, but I was supposed to also define the roles of everyone else involved.  Again, Magda was left out of the loop.  After we talked and made sure we were on the same page, I wrote my second response (and had Magda read it to make sure it had the right tone) and I sent it off.

That brings us to last week.  I had my seizure on Monday and only worked the second half of the day, but I had emailed Magda about what was happening and she was very supportive.  When I came into the office, I saw that I had missed a meeting, even though I knew I had no meetings scheduled.  It turns out that I had been sent a meeting request around 1 AM on Sunday and my calendar updated automatically.  I don’t check my work email outside of work hours, nor am I expected to, and sending me a meeting request to Skype at 9 AM the next day is at least the very least discourteous.  Guess who called the meeting?  The PI manager.  I was too out of it to care, so I ignored it and moved on.

Monday of this week, I got an out-of-the-blue Skype request from the PI manager to discuss what the meeting was about.  Apparently, my role in the document creation process is going to significantly increase.  Now, I’m supposed to still copyedit the internal document, but write the customer letter by having a conversation with each product engineer.  According to the PI manager, the engineers don’t like writing and I should help them more.  I protested and said that I had other responsibilities and I don’t have time to take on these extra roles and even if I did, I don’t know the company jargon to know when to challenge if something was appropriate to share with customers.  She said that I would need to learn the jargon through these conversations.  Remember, all of this came from a meeting I didn’t attend because I didn’t know about it and I was recovering from a seizure.  She didn’t know about why I came to work late, but she was still dumping a lot of work on me when I hadn’t had a chance to be a part of the discussion.

While I was Skyping with the PI manager, I sent Magda an instant message to let her know who I was talking to.  Once again, my boss, the person who actually decides how I spend my day, hadn’t been involved.  Magda said she wanted to talk when I was done.  So, my conversation continued with the PI manager and every time I explained that something wasn’t my role, she simply responded that it made sense for it to be.  I decided to stop fighting (she wasn’t listening anyway) and just let her talk.  At the end of the conversation, I said “I assume you’ve already talked to Magda and [Magda’s boss] about this.”  I knew she hadn’t and I thought that was a reasonable way to call her out.  She said she would email Magda right away so that she could get onboard.  Finally, the conversation ended.

Magda had left for a meeting, but before leaving, she left a note saying that I call should her cell as she was driving.  I was really hot-blooded at this point, so I went for a walk outside to cool off and called Magda.  Unsurprisingly, she was mad too.  The PI manager had crossed the line from being discourteous and was firmly in unprofessional territory.  Magda explained that she would talk with her boss, but assured me that the PI manager wouldn’t get her way.  The next morning, I walked into the office and saw Magda talking with her boss.  While they weren’t talking about my ordeal when I passed them, Magda later confirmed that they had discussed the situation and agreed that my role won’t change.  My position exists to support the office I work in, not the entire company.  I have done work that has impacted the company on a global scale, but that was because I was trying to solve a local problem and it was easier to make a major change so that other segments wouldn’t be working against us (it can happen with companies our size).  I help out with the internal documents and customer letters as nice gesture, but my main responsibilities are not on a global level, nor were they ever meant to be.  Magda sent the PI manager an email explaining everything and hasn’t heard back yet.

If history has taught me anything, this isn’t the end of this ordeal.  Here’s hoping that I’m wrong.

Number Four (Maybe)

I think I had another seizure.  I was asleep at the time and I didn't bite my lip or tear any muscles this time, but I woke up around 3 in morning on Monday feeling, well, feeling like I had just had a seizure.  One thing that was different about this time compared to the previous seizures is that I was medicated when it happened.

So, what caused it?  I think this time it was caused by low blood-sugar.  On Friday, I was still dealing with the worsened depression that came on when I started transitioning to the oxcarbazepine and I ordered a pizza and ate the whole thing.  I felt awful (a bit emotionally, but mostly physically), so I decided to try doing a juice cleanse to help pass the excess food.  In doing so, I was starving most of the weekend (I broke from the diet and got a vegetarian burrito on Saturday).  It was the worst on Sunday, but I drank my last portion of juice right before bed with the hope that I would be okay.  I wasn't.

After I woke up, I couldn't sleep for about an hour or two (when I'm recovering from a seizure, my brain becomes more alert while simultaneously becoming exhausted -- it's not fun).  I emailed my boss and told her what happened, adding that I would need some time to recover.  Even though she approved my absence, I made it into the office after lunch.  I had fitfully slept the rest of the morning (after making sure to eat some cereal and fruit to bring my blood-sugar to a safe level) and I was still pretty of out of it, but I'm glad I made it for the second half of the day.

While I think I was at risk because of the transition, I will watch my blood-sugar moving forward.  And in case you're wondering, the juice cleanse didn't even work.

Nice Surprise

I just found out yesterday that I'm getting a raise!  It's not a terribly impressive one at just 3%, but it's the first raise I've gotten as a technical writer.  I've never stayed with a company long enough to earn a raise, but the curse was broken when I started at Danfoss and I'm seeing yet another great benefit of this job.  In the sixteen months that I've been with the company, I've been to Europe for the first time, I've written a guide that will be used company-wide, I've earned the respect of my coworkers, and I did it without a direct supervisor for five months straight.

Is this what success feels like?  I think this is what success feels like.  I like it.

Slow Week

A week at work for me often consists of working on multiple of projects that all have immediate deadlines.  Like, I have time to get everything done, but my long-term projects always get pushed aside.  Well, this week has been different.  I went through my calendar and realized that I was all caught up.  It was kind of weird, but in a nice way.  I've been spending most of my week updating a guide to writing in English that I'm creating -- it's a big project and will probably take a year or two to complete.

The one down side to having more time is that, without the sense of rushing to meet the deadlines, the days go by a lot slower.  But I'm not complaining, because I know it won't be long before I have to start working on several projects at once again.

I Cost Too Much

The other day at work, I was talking to my manager, Magda, about how I was having trouble with the copyediting work I was doing.  In the instance in question, I was having to argue my case for the edits I made to two separate managers who are not native English-speakers.  This wasn't simply a matter of using a dashes instead of parentheses, but of using the wrong word.

The document I was proofing was explaining how some new packaging would secure the product better during transit and kept referring to the bottom layer as the "lower wedge."  I can see why that word was picked since wedges are sometimes used to secure things (like a door stop), but there were no triangular shapes to be found anywhere in any of the diagrams or photographs of the packaging.  I finally quoted a dictionary and highlighted why the word didn't fit.  Finally, the product manager saw the light and we compromised with "pack bottom."

When I related the story to Magda, she pulled up an email that she thought was similar.  In it, one of the people from product information (the group that I met with back in October) was dealing with a similar back-and-forth over several emails and finally got fed up.  "I cost too much to be spending so much time on this project," he wrote.  Magda made it clear that his choice of words was too strong, but she agreed with the sentiment.  My time is valuable and if people are arguing with me over something, I need to let them know that they're wasting the company's money, albeit gently.

I must say, I really enjoy having a boss who clearly has my back, almost as much as I do knowing that I'm a valuable commodity for my company.

Investigative Baking

On Thursday, my boss, Magda, dropped a hint to one of my coworkers that her birthday was coming up, but she didn't say when it would be exactly.  When I heard about it, I walked down to the HR department to see if they were allowed to tell me.  Since I've built a reputation for myself of being a skilled and generous baker, they knew exactly why I wanted to know, so they looked up the date.  As it happened, Magda's birthday was the very next day.  With the little warning we had, my department members and I each took an assignment, with me handling the cake.  I asked for suggestions on flavors and someone said that I should just make a cake that I liked.  I quickly jumped at the chance to make another Angel Food cake.

The next day, I came in and sat the cake (in a carrier) on my desk.  I didn't announce what it was, but I didn't hide it, either.  After everyone had had a chance to sign her birthday card, we presented it to Magda, who was visibly touched by the thoughtful act.  She asked that she be able to take us to lunch, to which we agreed.  When we had decided on a place, I called ahead and asked for permission to bring in the cake, which I was granted.

I'm guessing that Magda hadn't had Angel Food cake before because she kept commenting on how light and fluffy it was.  I encouraged her to take the leftover cake home to share with her family, but she instead decided to share it with the rest of the office, including the HR department.

While I bring baked goods to the office fairly regularly, this was the first time that I brought a birthday cake, though I doubt it will be the last.

Overly Cautious

Remember how we had a massive blizzard a few weeks ago?  Well, the National Weather Service issued a warning earlier this week for another storm, albeit a much smaller one (only four to eight inches of accumulation were expected).  After the disaster that we experienced last time, I planned ahead and worked from home yesterday.

When it was all over, there was barely any snow.  It was snowing when I got up in the morning, but not very hard and nothing was sticking.  I decided to play it safe and stay inside, but there apparently was never a risk of getting stuck.  I'm a little embarrassed about my decision, but I guess it's better to err on the side of caution.

Though I do feel a bit betrayed by the NWS...

Blizzard Aftermath

When I went out to my car yesterday morning, it was mostly cleared of snow.  The work that I had done on Sunday was mostly focused on the sides near the doors and the rear that would block me from backing out of my space.  When the plows finally came Monday evening, they took care of the rest.

At least, that's how it appeared.  However, once I was back in front of my car, I saw that the hood of my car had a pile of snow on it that was over three feet tall (that was connected to an even large pile on the adjacent hill) and the wind had blown lots of snow under my car.  I turned on the engine to heat things up in the hopes that would make it easier to get going.  The weather has been pretty warm since the blizzard, so my windows weren't frosted over, which helped.  After a few minutes, I decided to try backing out.  The snow under my car had made a sort of tall hump that prevented me from getting much traction: I would back up and my tires would spin.  I ended up rocking the car back and forth (backing up, braking, following forward, then backing up with the natural momentum of the car) and finally got free.  I still had to clear off a bunch of snow from the hood, but the worst was over.

The roads were all pretty bad.  I live in a suburb of Baltimore and most streets have multiple lanes, but in nearly every case, only one lane was cleared.  At first I was mad that city crews hadn't worked harder, but then I realized that we got 32 inches of snow in a day and a half.  To put that in perspective, Baltimore County received 42 inches of snow in all of 2015.  The resources to deal with this much snow just didn't exist.  The fact that I made it to work at all was kind of amazing.

Dealing with the snow has been a hassle, sure, but I haven't been in danger, so I really have nothing to complain about.