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 …