Yet Another Possible Career Choice

I like to keep my options open. Even though I'm an IT professional at the moment, and have been in the last seven years, I have always allowed the possibility of other career tracks in my mind. For example, possible options if I ever get sick and tired of computers include: Durex or Trojan product tester, Sleep Number Bed tester, wine taster, porn star, doctor (specializing in gynecology), food critic, or travel reporter.

Well, after reading a news report yesterday from CNN Asia, I think I can expand my list of possible career tracks to include space astronaut. The only reason why I never aspired to become an astronaut other than the fact that I failed horribly with my physics major in college was because I heard food choices in space suck. I mean, have you ever tried one of those space ice creams that astronauts eat? I'd much rather lick your kitty's little poop hole while she's got the runs! [Okay, maybe not that bad, but the space ice cream is pretty close.]

Now, I can consider becoming an astronaut because according to CNN Asia's report, after a couple years of research, Korean food will be on the menu in space! If there are no Asian foods in Chicago, I will die of suicide if I have to eat American or Russian food day in and out. But now, there's Kimchi! I better go back to Physics school soon if I want to become an astronaut.

Hard to Say Goodbye

As I write this blog entry on my final flight home from a business trip, I looked back at the achievements that I had accomplished and the life experiences that I had gone through just in the last four months at Boeing. Sure, I may have sarcastically joked at how I hated traveling to Seattle, but truth be told, Boeing has been one of my favorite clients in a long time.

I flew in for just a day and half because not only did I have to return my Boeing issued property such as the laptop assigned to me, but I also had to run a meeting to transfer my knowledge on an otherwise huge side project that I had been tasked to do. They thought I would see through that side project till final implementation, but unfortunately (for Boeing), a better opportunity presented itself to me.

First of all, I hit the ground running at Boeing when I first arrived in September of 2007. Within a matter of weeks, I impressed the client so much that director's manager gave me one of the highest performance awards Boeing has, the Boeing Pride Award. Better still, I was not even a Boeing employee!

In the relatively short four months I was in Seattle, I was able to hang out with my college buddy Elle and her boyfriend almost once a week. I met and dated Traci briefly, and made a new friend Danielle. To add to my ego boost, I did so well at Boeing that they did not hesitate to sign an extension contract with IBM that would have kept me at Boeing through the next three quarters! I was really looking forward to that, because it meant more skiing opportunities at Whistler for me, and plenty of time to hang out with my friends Elle and Changren.

Of course, as we all know, I recently accepted a new job that will keep me afoot in Chicago. And during the conclusion of the meeting I ran today, I had such great feedback from my clients. All the hard work and sweat paid off. All those kind words were so positive that I wanted to cry. There was no doubt in my mind that had the new opportunity not arise, my stint at Boeing would have elevated my career. (Read promotion.)

As I turned over the Boeing property and spoke with the client director for the last time, I was at a loss for words other than simple thank you's. I have never been too good with saying goodbyes, especially after forming a special relationship with a client. I'm so going to miss Boeing.

Of course, once I receive my new iPod Shuffle in the mail, I will have a kind reminder of Boeing every time I use it. Because one of my wrap-ups was to redeem the points I received as a result of the Boeing Pride Award, and in doing so, I was shocked to realize how much 100 points were worth! About $100!!! If I had known it was worth that much, I would have redeemed it a long time ago! I thought 100 points were only worth a pen and pencil set, or some golf tees, or whatnot.

Thanks, Boeing, for the opportunities and memories!!!

"You Sure Know How to Stuff Someone's Christmas Stocking!"

That was the first thing my manager said to me over the phone right after he had messaged me over our corporate instant messaging service to call him when I had a minute.

What would precipitate this, you might wonder. Well, I certainly did not send him a Christmas gift that he had always wanted. In fact, the statement above is more of sarcasm than anything else. Whether it was said in a jovial or serious tone was hard to tell, because of his deadpanning voice, although he did assure me that it was a joke after a five second silence.

You see, I finally received the long-awaited letter in the mail on Monday, Christmas Eve. The letter said something to the effect of, "Bla bla bla, congratulations, bla bla bla, welcome, bla bla bla, January 7." In other words, I have been extended an offer of employment at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, a premier employer in Chicago.

Anyway, excitement aside, the offer letter came in the narrowest of times. If I were to start on January 7, then Christmas Eve effectively would be two weeks exactly. So I had to put in my two weeks' notice this Monday, lest I ask to start on January 14 instead.

And because it is quite typical for people to be out shopping or spending time with families on Christmas Eve, I didn't want to call my manager on Monday afternoon. Instead, I emailed him my resignation letter, and ended with the offer for him to call me up on my personal cell phone at any time he feels like it. Of course I knew he was in for a shocker come Christmas day, but it was the lesser of the two evils, you know?

Unfortunately, I did ruin my manager's Christmas, because I saw last night that he had read my email. He just chose to communicate with me today. What can I say? This is an awesome opportunity. And here are the reasons why:

1. Northwestern Memorial Hospital: This is Northwestern Memorial Hospital! Not only is it a leading hospital in the nation, but it is also a company that takes pride in its community involvement, which is something I sorely miss with my traveling job that I've had for the past seven years.

2. Chicagoan Transition: I moved to Chicago on June 21, 2004, and I have never been able to enjoy the benefits of being a Chicagoan. In my line of work, I travel out of town four or five days a week, for almost every single week of the year. The only exception was this year, when I landed the Zurich/Farmers Insurance project, which kept me in the Schaumburg suburb for the most of January through July. Although that was good in the sense that I didn't travel, but that didn't count because it was worse than traveling out of town. Not only did I not get a meal allowance, but I spent more than an hour each way driving to and from work! My days were longer, and to make matters worse, a lot of the work involved my participation on weekends. I didn't handle the Tuesdays and Wednesdays as my weekends.

3. Personal Activities: Now I can partake in sports leagues! The only reason why I began running is because I found out pretty quickly in the first year of my career that it was quite hard to play basketball or football when I was on the road. Aside from the fact that I couldn't locate a gym or field, I also couldn't find people to play with. With running being a single person sport, I decided to get into it. But now, I can join sports leagues, which often have games during the week. On top of that, I now can get myself involved in volunteerism to better my community, something which I could never do.

4. Girls: Please don't get me wrong, as there is absolutely nothing wrong with the girls from out of town (or from Chicago for that matter), but I'm quite looking forward to dating girls here in Chicago. Granted, I've only been in a relationship with out of town girls twice (or was it thrice) in my seven year career, but it was certainly not easy leaving the girl on the weekends nonetheless. And on the flipside, when I wasn't seeing anybody from out of town, the girls here in Chicago either would suspect my leeward ways, or be sick and tired of not seeing me more often. Well, with my new local job, I get to hear the true reasons why I'm not a keeper for them. Maybe I'm truly a fugly looking ass? =)

5. Real Holidays: One thing about my line of work is that most companies would prefer to let their own employees off for holidays, and pay companies like IBM to send out someone to do something like a major upgrade during the holidays. In the last seven years, I have had my share of working through holidays, without extra pay. Well, come January 7, working through holidays will be no more. Guaranteed! In fact, I won't have to worry about having to do any major work during major weekends either, because Northwestern Memorial Hospital, being a major hospital in the downtown area, has a policy of change freeze during both holidays and times when the city expects lots of tourists, such as during events like Taste of Chicago and the Chicago Marathon. The idea is that during such times where there are many tourists, the hospital naturally will see more patients than it normally would otherwise, so the stability of their computer systems become more critical. One of the surest ways to maintain stability is to not introduce any changes, such as a system upgrade, during peak visitors periods! In other words, I get to participate in big Chicago events without having to worry about working! Yay!

6. Park and Shop: Okay, this one may be kind of gay, but hear me out on this. As long as I'm an employee of Northwestern Memorial Hospital and living outside of certain designated downtown area, I'm eligible to get a spot in one of several downtown parking garages for $123 a month (pretax income)! I have access to my spot 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and 365.25 days a year! I might not even drive to work and opt to bike in during non winter days, but the prospect of having a prime parking spot reserved for me in the heart of downtown certainly will alleviate a lot of aches when needing to get to downtown without relying on the reliable CTA buses and trains. How awesome is this?

7. Almost a Dream Job: This is almost a dream job! When I moved to Chicago, I had every intention to work for Northwestern Memorial Hospital. But I had to wait, because I knew at that time that their hospital systems were running on Hewlett Packard's VMS operating system, and my expertise is on IBM's AIX operating system. I knew for a while that sooner or later, Northwestern Memorial Hospital will be making the switch, but it was only a rumor for years. Returning to healthcare is something I've always wanted, because there is something good in knowing that I indirectly affect peoples' lives. I enjoyed that dependency. Not to mention that there will always be plenty of eye candy at the cafeteria during lunch while watching fresh interns waltz in by the groups! Now, this is almost a dream job because my true dream job is to sleep-test every single mattress made by any of the major (preferably upscale) mattress companies or write/report for traveling shows. Seeing that I never run across such a job posting in the papers or on monster.com, I suspect that my dream job probably doesn't exist.

Now, on the flip side, there are definitely some cons in taking this dream job...

1. Visiting Cities: I will no longer fly out to different places across the Americas, and visit all the beautiful cities (and not so beautiful ones like Detroit or Cleveland). In my seven year career as a consultant, some of my memorable cities include Denver (where I dated Patrycja), Montreal Canada (where I had hooked up with a hot girl from a local dance club), Seattle (once while working for Cerner, and now while for IBM), New York City (where I dated Mariola), Baltimore, Toronto Canada, Petoskey Michigan, and New Orleans (where I had to escape Hurricane Evan the Terrible and drive for hours to Houston). Now, I'll be stuck in Chicago, and the only way I'll ever visit other cities would be personal vacationing.

2. No More Freebies: Definitely no more per diems or meal allowances. I have to pay for my own food from now on. On top of that, no more frequent flier points from Southwest Airlines (which I typically get about 10 free round trip tickets a year), and once my Southwest Airlines Companion Pass expires this coming February, I will never be able to fly someone with me for free. No more earning hotel points for personal use on vacations. Definitely no more Diamond VIP status at Hilton properties, which provided me with free upgrades to their best rooms, access to their Executive Lounges for free breakfasts, hors d'oeuvres and drinks at night. At least I can still redeem my hotel points for vacationing though...

3. Higher Cost of Living: Now that I won't be traveling, I won't be driving rental cars with gas paid for by my clients. I now need to budget in monthly gasoline expenses, which was pretty much negligible in the past. Furthermore, I'll also have to factor in higher expenses for toiletries, like shampoo, soap and toilet paper. As someone who is quite regular when it comes to human waste excrements, the frequent toilet paper buying will be quite painful.

4. Environmental Impact: A couple years ago, I justified the purchase of my Land Rover because it was the smallest SUV and that I wouldn't be driving it often while I am constantly out of town. But now that I'll be living in Chicago all the time, I can only imagine driving my Land Rover more frequently now. I don't want to waste money to buy another vehicle, but I feel the need to buy a hybrid vehicle. This is still a toss up right now.

5. Discounts: I know this may be trivial to some people, but I have come to enjoy the discount benefits from IBM and its affiliation with so many companies. I get significant discounts from places like General Electric, Panasonic, Apple, Sony, Sharp, mortgage companies on home loans, Ford Motor Company, General Motors, Chrysler, Audi, AT&T, and many, many more. A lot of things I currently own were acquired, or services currently use came courtesy of the IBM discount program. I'm going to miss this very, very much.

6. Different Hos in Different Area Codes: Totally kidding here. ;-)

Well, overall, I think my personal life will definitely improve by leaps and bounds. And for the first time in my life, I'll probably get to enjoy more of the culinary wonders Chicago has to offer instead of experimenting with all sorts of foods from all over the country.

This is definitely a brand new chapter in my life which I can safely claim that I'll gladly embrace. I can't wait till January 7 arrives. My new life will be...

Wait for it...

Legendary!

A Break, Finally...

December brought a much-needed reprieve this time around. I was just a tad bit tired of traveling. Don’t get me wrong, Seattle was lots of fun, but the weekly commute was getting tiring. Instead of spending Sunday afternoons vegetating in front of the television watching the various NFL games, especially my beloved Bears, I was spending my Sunday afternoons cabbing it to the airport, and spending perhaps no more than 20 minutes standing near the entrance of an airport bar peering in at the television set.

I was originally supposed to fly to Seattle the first week of December, but something came up on the client's end that pretty much ended up with me being asked to cancel my travel plans. I worked from home instead. Then the second week of December is entirely dedicated to my first ever Mexican trip. Who can complain about going south for a week in the dead of the brutal Chicago winter?

Although the third week of December is not a vacation time for me, I won't be traveling still because I'll be "stuck" in Chicago attending a much needed training class. This is good, because the class will definitely increase my skill set and ante up my marketability. I certainly can't complain about that.

Then the final week of December will be spent on yet another vacation. You see, the problem is that at IBM, if I don't use up all my vacation time by the end of the year, I lose it all. Sure, it sounds like I'll be taking quite a lot of vacations in the month of December, but I definitely won't be able to use up all of my 15 days of vacation though. In fact, I'll be wasting about 12 hours of vacation, if I were to continue with my currently scheduled time-off.

But it's alright, though. Cos I certainly ain't complaining. =)

No Sense of Identity

It's not that I'm a contrarian, but I'm simply flexible. Ask me any question, and unlike the general populace, my answer will almost always be, "It depends," regardless of the question you have asked. Naturally, this has more than angered some of my friends, and frustrated many of my clients. Life, it seems, does not always trek its way through the same predictable course. And I hate the overly generalized questions. Overly generalized questions deserver the overly generalized answer of, "It depends."

You see, my life has never been polarizing one way or another. I was born to a father from Taiwan, and a mother from Malaysia. And on top of that, I grew up in predominantly Muslim country of Indonesia, while attending an American boarding school for missionaries. And to make matters all the more complicated, my parents weren't missionaries, much less Christians! I grew up as what most of us call third culture kid. I don't have a readily and unmistakably cultural exuberance indicative of my being Taiwanese. But neither do I have an Indonesian or American cultural radiance. But if you don't know me, you'll automatically assume that I'm Chinese. Until I open my mouth, because I have a hint of a weird accent that is not identifiable.

Not only is my background a big middle-of-nothing-ness, so is my personality. I know extremely well all things technology, especially computers and the likes. I was the ace programmer in all my programming classes in college, and I'm very good at what I do for a living. In a sense, I'm a super Geek, based purely on my knowledge, skill set and career. But if you were to meet me for the first time, or tenth for that matter, you'll never hear me bring up the question, "Have you heard that AMD announced the first ever triple core chips that can do this and that?" Things like that do not interest me. I'm simply analytical, comprehensive, and smart. And all I do is apply those into a job that I don't exactly love, other than treating it as a means to an end.

Many people who come across me will always think that I'm slightly off. And to an extent, I am kind of weird. Yes, I do march to the beat of a different tune in life. I used to be really funny and be the class clown, and once in a while, that side of me shows up in my adult life. But for the most part, I've become a very serious person, especially at client sites. But then, once in a while, my clownish side will mysteriously pop up in client settings. Instead of being the 29 year old professional, I would become a crazy 15 year old. And of course, this typically will have dire consequences, such as creating the permanent image for my client that I'm just a goof who went too far.

So as I sit on this flight back to Chicago, I've been doing some thinking. Why did I become a technical person? Why didn't I go into acting? I sometimes think my life would be better suited to being a comedian. I have never gotten to work at eight or nine sharp with any regularity. My personality is better suited to being a starving actor with multiple side jobs. I think I would be way happier that way, instead of being tied to the constraints of corporate America.

I'm 29 now, nearly hitting 30 in a few short months. A quick look back through my last six years and some months revealed good times and bad. Despite all that, they were mostly all moments which I'm grateful for. I mean, I never had to worry about not having money to pay the rent or food. But at the same time, I'm not exactly content. Maybe I should consider a totally different career path at this juncture in life.

I don't know... Is this sense of identity loss a symptom of the 30 year life crisis?

I hope not. But as cool as it sounds to marry a wealthy girl and be done with the rat race, I know with a hundred percent certainty that I will be bored and unhappy with such arrangement.

Sometimes I wish I am more naïve and just be willful and polarized without too much thinking, instead of living a it depends kind of life. =)

Traveling Too Much?

For the first half of the year, I have thoroughly enjoyed not traveling for business. Unless of course you consider the daily hour-long commute to Schaumburg traveling. At first I kind of missed the traveling, because I wasn't raking in the Southwest Airlines and Hilton points. Furthermore, I missed having nice, expensive meals on my clients' tab. And most importantly, I was spending my own money for food and toilet paper, which now lasts a couple weeks instead of a couple months.

Then on August 25th, things went back to the norm that had been for the last six years: jetting off on business trips every single week. First came a one-night business trip to New York City, followed immediately by a week in Providence, Rhode Island, then consecutive weeks in Seattle. At first it was exciting, because I missed this constant rush to beat the time. I like to play this game of never breaking my stride from the time I leave the door of my house to the time I sit my fat ass on the plane. Efficiency is the game, tempting fate the adrenaline, and J-Ho is my name.

Okay, that last line was kind of corny. I apologize.

Despite my excitement to get back into the groove of things, I think subconsciously my mind is telling me that I may be traveling too much. Have you ever had a dream where you get stuck at a problem or situation, and you can't seem to get out of it? Like being cornered in the wild by a lion, and you don't see a way out, yet your dream never goes so far as the lion committing its final act? And then the dream starts all over the same? It's anxiety, but not so much so that will cause you to wake up.

Well, I had that kind of dream when I slept last night into this morning. The whole dream, which repeated itself a good three or four times, went like this. I was packing to travel for business, and as always, had a flight on Southwest Airlines. I had previously checked into my flight so I could be in the A boarding group, but left my printed boarding pass at home (which happens quite often actually). This is no big deal, as I can always go to the kiosk at the airport to reprint it.

The "stuck" moment of my dream was that when I got to Midway, I had a tough time at the kiosk. Basically, I couldn't reprint my boarding pass, because I didn't know my confirmation number! I struggled and struggled with the computer at the kiosk, while occasionally looking up at the clock just to see my time slipping away, thereby missing my flight. And when I missed the flight, the dream just repeated itself.

I don't know why I didn't wake up from this horrible feeling of anxiety, but I guess it wasn't horrible enough. I mean, metaphorically I never got eaten by the lion in the end, as such would have caused me to wake up in a pool of sweat. And possibly a pool of yellow near my crotch. It was as if I was left hanging on a two-episode television show, ending on a black screen with bold letters "...To Be Continued." Ack!

When I finally woke up at 11:53, I stared at the ceiling and said, "What the f**k was that all about?" Without skipping a beat, I exclaimed, "That was so stupid! All I have to do is punch in #12###75 (my Rapid Rewards membership number) at the kiosk and it'll retrieve all my reserved flights! Doh!" And the scary part to you all is that I actually have committed my Southwest Airlines membership number to memory, just like my Hilton and American Express card numbers!

So, was my mind trying to tell me that I need to stop traveling? What did it all mean? Maybe I'll have a revelation while I nap on my flight to Seattle come Monday afternoon.

Just a Bit Rusty

It has been ages since I last flown. Dubya was the President of the United States. Oh wait, he still is. I guess it just seems like forever in the life of a road warrior. If not for the perception of the ocean of time, then at least I know for sure it has been a while since I last flew on a non-Southwest Airlines flight.

You see, as a road warrior, I know many tricks here and there to allow for efficiency so as not to waste any time idling around. For example, how to time things just right so that when you finally get to your gate, you only have to wait five minutes before you board your flight. Of course, several of my friends have told me in the past that this kind of planning greatly increases one's stress level exponentially. For me, it isn't all that particularly more stressful, other than the fact that there is an element of gambling involved in the whole process.

Mind you, I only have less than the count of my fingers in a handful when it comes to the number of times where I have completely missed my flight. Other than the one time where I went to the wrong terminal at Denver where the now defunct Kansas City based Vanguard Airlines printed the gate information misleadingly. As for the rest? I slept through them all. Yeah, that's why not even a full 12 months have passed before I started avoiding Monday early bird flights, opting instead for Sunday evenings.

So on Thursday night, I got a call telling me that I might have to go to New York City on Saturday. The client needs someone there at 16:00. But I also had Garth's bachelor party to go to that day.

Side note. So I have an aisle seat on my flight, and across me is the fold-away seat used for flight attendants. I just noticed that she is actually cross stitching. I thought sharp objects like an inch and a half needle is not allowed on flights?End of side note.

Where was I? Oh right... A full day of bachelor party festivities for Garth. If I had to make it to Manhattan by 16:00 local time, I would have been forced to totally miss out on the entire thing. And seeing how I have been on the bench for almost a full month without any billable hours or viable project, it wasn't exactly in my favor to tell my manager that I turned down a billable project, despite the fact that it is only for five hours. So I played the work-life balance game. Namely, compromise. It was either that, or handing my employer another bullet on a silver platter that he can use to lay me off.

I told them that I couldn't possibly miss out on my good friend's bachelor party, but I would be willing to enjoy half the festivities. After all, I couldn't really drink any alcohol since I've been on the marathon training schedule, so I didn't really need to go bar-hopping later on. The best I could make it? 21:00 local time. If the client didn't like that, then they will have to find another person. This strategy has the benefit of not having another reason to lay me off in light of my shortage of billable hours, as well as having a 50-50 chance that I might be entirely off the hook. It was a gamble...

Since I'm writing this on the plane, you may as well guess that I'm en route to La Guardia. After only spending a meager three hours at the Arlington Park. For the brutal near two hour sitting in traffic getting there and the $10 valet parking fee, all I got to see was just four races. Oh well. At least I made an effort to spend some QT with Garth and his friends.

Anyway, back to the whole original point. Whenever I fly, I always patronize Southwest Airlines. I can't even tell you when the last time I had to fly a non-Southwest Airlines flight. So it has been a long, long while since I went to O'Hare International. And instead of the smart road warrior, I blindly drove into the daily parking garage while totally ignoring the five big signs a quarter mile prior that indicated which terminals serviced which flights.

I turned into the ramp for parking, and let out a loud, "F**k!" There were six gates to the humongous parking facility. Terminal 1, Terminal 1 & 2, Terminal 3 & Hilton, Hilton, Terminal 4 & 5, and Terminal 5. And that was all they said. Shit, what terminal is American Airlines? After sitting by the side of the road with my hazards blinking away for a few minutes, I decided that the parking facility for Terminal 1 would be a good choice, because there was a good likelihood that at least three terminals service American Airlines.

So I went in and parked with confidence. I got into the elevator, went up the escalator, then noticed the wave of United Airlines logos all over. F**k! I totally zoned out and thought that American Airlines was based at O'Hare. Funny thing is, as a Chicagoan, I already knew that O'Hare is a United Airlines hub. What was I thinking?

While walking the miles of underground tunnel to Terminal 3, I thought to myself that a rational road warrior would have picked Terminal 3, because if it wasn't the right one, then I could easily go in either direction. I don't know why I didn't think correctly. After all, I learned this little lesson when I was trying to fly home from Dallas Fort Worth, which ironically is the American Airlines hub. But given the fact that I had given myself plenty of time, I wasn't in a hurry. I enjoyed the humid, hot and damp air in the underground tunnel for a good 10 minutes, before getting to my destination.

Man, I'm getting rusty at this traveling, with only half a year of hiatus! But then, I kind of got my mojo back. Since I rarely fly the major carriers, I have absolutely no status with them. And hating to wait till the plane was almost full to board the plane, I sneaked onto the plane with the boarding group who has Platinum privileges. And the girl checking us in didn't even bat her eye when she scanned me in. My secret? Eye contact. A sweet smile. Say hello. Ask how her day has been. She was too busy telling me how long her day had been to even notice that I didn't have that special logo on my boarding pass. When she returned my boarding pass, I said, "Thank you, and have yourself a nice day!" She smiled back.

I'm kind of glad I still have it in me to work the magic. But before I get too confident, I have to tell you that a cat got my tongue when I tried to talk with the cute girl sitting next to me. C'mon! She had a little cage with a two month old Japanese Chin puppy. A practical golden ticket into an easy flirt. Yet, I somehow managed to screw that up. Yup, I definitely am way out of practice, at least when it comes to flirting with strangers on planes. =)

Dangerously Close to Being Laid Off!

As a consultant in I B M's consulting services division, I have a duty to perform project work for clients who have contracted I B M for whatever technical service they need. And as such, much like attorneys, I have a billable goal. When I joined I B M, I was pretty happy with a billable target of mid 60%. But when the new year rang in, I was given the shocker: Upper 80% billable target. And my time spent traveling to client sites doesn't count.

With my previous "local" project here in the Chicago suburbs, I was almost 100% billable month over month from February till the end of July. My manager didn't care about my continuing education, as I was making our group look good by the numbers. But after that "local" project ended, I had been on the bench week after week after week. In fact, my billable time for the month of August is currently set at 0%. In a flash, my year to date billable number was crashing harder than the stocks did that jumpstarted the Depression Era.

It wasn't as if I wasn't looking through the signed contracts database to find myself a new project, nor was I not being diligent in talking to sales leads on potential contracts. Sometimes, the stars just don't align. A great opportunity is there, and I'm the perfect candidate, but the client wants a local resource, or will only pay X percent of travel and lodging. Or the client wanted me, but the client was not ready to start the project even with the contract signed. You know, the little things that are normal to a constantly fluctuating business environment. Business school professors call it change, and change is good. I call it a pain in the ass.

I thought I had found a great project in San Francisco, but something happened that was out of the client's and my control. Without going into details of internal bureaucracy, my candidacy was rejected not by the client or my resource deployment manager, but some other individual in the food chain. So with that promising and desirable project out of reach, I only had another promising gig I could potentially hit.

Unfortunately, everything was going against me. I was the fourth person to submit myself as a candidate in this one particular contract, and my resource deployment manager could only submit candidates to the client in that order. Then finally it was down to two candidates, which I was one of the finalists. My competitor? Supposedly, he was nearly identical to me in terms of skill and knowledge. Worse yet, he was a local resource, whereas I would have been half a country away.

So on Tuesday, both of us had phone interviews with the client. I was the first at 12:00, with the other guy calling in a half hour later at 12:30. Of course, the important technical people were busy and didn't get into the interview till 20 minutes after we started. And to make matters worse, the other candidate dialed into the conference call five minutes early at 12:25. If there was an awkward moment in my life, that would've been it. I actually had to coax him into dropping off the call and have him dial in later, because it just wasn't right for him to listen in on me while I was in the hot seat. And, as if the stars' misalignment wasn't enough, I had to tempt fate by eating my lunch and mumbling during the entire interview!

I'm telling you, when this boy is hungry, there ain't nothing stopping him from doing what's right. Besides, Hyatt Center cafeteria had a special showcase in the ethnic food section: stuffed cabbage and Pierogies. Who can turn them down? And who would even want to eat them when they had gotten cold? This is Chicago, man, and I like my Polish foods the way they were meant to be served. I'll just pretend that they weren't made in an assembly lined cafeteria kitchen, sat under heat lamps, and served by people who may have questionable immigration status from the south of the border who incidentally probably never saw a Pierogie till that day.

When I hung up the phone, it finally dawned on me that I might have bombed my own interview! I didn't prepare myself in remembering my previous projects. I sent them an outdated resume that excluded my recent "local" project, which was huge and brag-worthy. I forgot to read up on this potential client's contract, as I got confused with the hundreds of other contracts I had been reading everyday. And I chewed with my mouth open while answering their questions. With a realization as big as this, who could ever fault me for drowning my sorrows later that evening over happy hour? I was getting sick and tired of my manager hounding me day after day, "Found yourself a project yet?" Whenever I hear our internal instant messaging chat pop up, my heart would skip a beat, and dreaded seeing if it was my manager. The last thing I wanted to read in an instant message was: "You're no longer profitable to I B M. Get a box and gather your belongings."

Although I do wonder at times how effective that would have been, considering I don't have a physical office space or cube that I could claim as my own, and I work from home.

Anyway, come Wednesday evening, just as I was getting ready for my eight mile run around 18:15, I heard the dreaded instant message sound: "Bing!" My manager has been known to instant message me at odd hours of the day as long as my laptop is still on. I looked at the name, and it wasn't my manager. It was somebody else.

"Congratulations! Welcome to Seattle!"

C'mon! Where's the Modesty?!?

It is simply human nature that at least once a day, we just have to go to the grounded lavatory and relieve ourselves. And it is much more so especially after a hefty lunch. Well, today is no different than what's normal, other than the fact that I am actually in downtown at my office instead of working from home.

I knew the time would come after having a huge Patty Melt for lunch at Poag Mahone's, famous for its burgers and anything beef. So much so that they even have a Poag Mahone's Burger Eater's Bill of Rights!

Anyway, as I'm the germaphobe type of a guy, I generally avoid using restrooms outside of the comforts of my home. But it didn't bother me today, because I knew the restroom at the I B M office is very nice and, dare I say, kind of upscale. I mean, it's even got a nice little couch, which I have only seen in women's restrooms at fancy restaurants! Not only do they provide nice cowboy hats (those silly protective paper you use to cover the toilet seats), but they also provide real toilet paper instead of thin sandpaper that is just as absorbent as a plastic sheet. I know it is definitely not Quilted Northern (my favorite!), but I think it is definitely Charmin. Two-ply, no less!

I view my number two breaks at the I B M office as something of a R&R moment. I would go in there, all nice, quiet and comfortable, pull my trousers down, and relax. While others may go on a couple cigarette breaks lasting 10 minutes each a day, the number two break is my equivalent. This is where I would take my time, no rush, and simultaneously get on the Internet with my cell phone and catch up on news on current events and popular blogs.

So earlier I went for my number two break. Although I had already gotten snug and comfortable, I had yet to begin my business before some guy who sounded larger than life waltzed into the decently-sized restroom. I was occupying the last stall, yet this guy chose to go into the stall next to me, of all the other possible choices! And we all know that men's dress shoes have this slight clicking sound to them, right? Well, this guy's strides were so heavy that I swear a woman in high heels was in the men's restroom!

I'm not a mean person, so I was not quick to judge. At least not on the mere loud clicking noises he produced with his suave, shiny shoes. But what happened next irritated the shit out of me. Literally!

I don't know about common etiquettes typically exercised in women's restrooms, but I believe what happened next was definitely beyond the boundaries of what I consider normal. First, he simply had to push so hard that his fart echoed throughout the walls of the restroom. I swear I thought the partition walls between our stalls shook. Next, he felt the need to high drop his things that you may have mistaken the restroom in an office high rise for the restroom in a swimming pool with a dive board, where a fat kid just jumped in.

Grr! What is this guy trying to prove?!? The toughest man on earth?!? Despite what he did, I tried to enjoy reading a blog. But he quickly interrupted me by yanking on the toilet paper so hard that the toilet paper holder rattled like a poor kid shaking a steel piggy bank violently. Without missing a beat, he blew his nose as if he was practicing for a tuba solo. What the hell is up with this guy?!? A competition to see who is the loudest?!?

And of course, it is simply natural, and biological, that once in a while a fart would come along when you go drop the kids off at the pool, so I let out a gentle fart. Sorry to say this, but I like modesty. Not to mention that I don't like pushing my fart out so hard that your ass cheeks hurt from the ripple effects of the sonic boom. But immediately after I let out a whimper of a fart, the guy next to me had the audacity to chuckle! Oh, this guy thinks I'm an import, eh?!? [Import cars typically have a joke of a horn, compared to American made cars that have authority sounding horns.] Then he proved my theory correct: He let loose a loud fart, again, as to assert his authority. Not to mention the misguided idea of being on top of the societal hierarchy.

I was so turned off by this jack ass that I simply wiped up and got the hell out of there. But while I was washing my hands, I heard him clean up and get out of his stall. As I looked at him through the mirror, this short guy just looked at me and smiled.

WTF?!? Obviously this crazy guy has got some issues! I can't believe some guy suffering from the Napoleon Syndrome was competing with me on shitting!

Worse? On the grand scheme of things, he was technically a coworker of mine, even though I don't know him. I might venture to guess that he probably was in sales.

Cheeseland, Here I Come!

The furthest north I've ever been to on this side of Lake Michigan is East Troy, Wisconsin. That is pretty much near the border of Illinois. The last time I went there was July 1st, 2006, when I went to the Alpine Valley Music Theatre to watch Dave Matthews Band with Kelley.

Ever since then, I have never ever crossed the Wisconsin border, before or after.

Well, it is no more!

A couple hours ago, my manager called and told me to pack up and go to Milwaukee. Yeah, that wasn't much of an advanced notice, but what the heck. Given the really short notice, all I could do is book a hotel, and just dump the necessities and a change of clothes in a plastic bag and hit the road.

So it's 20:15 now. I guess as soon as I post this, I'm outta here! =) (Finally, my first out of town business trip in months and months and months!)

The Bakery Story

In this one neighborhood, there are two bakeries. They both make gorgeous wedding cakes and other similar items. And they are both fierce competitors, constantly one-upping each other. Furthermore, their salespeople (let's just assume that the bakeries have traveling salespeople) are always undercutting each other, touting their products better and cheaper than the other.

Well, as I work for one of the bakeries, I can't even imagine the shock I received when the other bakery called in desperation for our assistance. What the... I tried to contain my laughter and control myself from spouting out puns here and there, and remained as professional as possible throughout.

Isn't that embarrassing? I wonder how much pride they have to swallow to make that desperate call? I'll definitely not look at their cake the same way ever again... =)

The Last Day's Luck

Seriously! What the hell?!? Saturday night was going to be my last overnight work with my current client, as there were only 5.5 hours left in the contract. It kind of sucked that I have to spend my last remaining hours of this gig alone in a non-air conditioned building in the middle of summer. (Cheap bastards, I tell ya! They can't even turn on the air conditioner after 19:00 during the weekdays, or all day during the weekend, unless some department pays through their internal funny money for the service with days in advance, which my client's department was unwilling to do so.) But fate has a funny way of screwing around with me.

With the current project since January of this year, I have had to come in to Schaumburg in all sorts of hours: early morning rush hour, 10:00 post rush hour, afternoon pre rush hour, evening hours, all of which were both for weekdays and weekends, and late night hours (anything past 22:00). Save for late night hours, I have never had the luck of making it to Schaumburg faster than 48 minutes. First, there is the horrendous road that I have to trek across from where I live to the highway, littered with traffic lights and dumbass drivers. Then there is the I-90/I-94/I-190 traffic which seems to be omni-present. I suspect the reason for that is because O'Hare is the busiest airport in the United States, and there never is a lack of people going to pick up someone or dropping off someone at O'Hare at all kinds of hours.

So I've been dealing with commutes that have ranged from 48 minutes to near a couple hours every day I go to Schaumburg. It typically is worse during the weekend, because people tend to want to drive to God-knows-where in the weekends. But earlier today, with my drive starting at 20:01, a time typically at the height of its worst, I somehow made it to the highway in 20 minutes! And mysteriously, the highway was flowing at a respectable 70 miles an hour (in a 55 mph limit)!

It was as if I had suddenly entered a magical world, where irritating drivers and annoying traffic just suddenly disappeared. Better yet, I was blessed with pretty much all green lights on my way to the highway, a practical first! So rare is something like that to happen that I'm sure that the odds makers in Las Vegas would have pegged better odds of doomsday occurring before something like what I experienced today! All in all, my drive to Schaumburg took only 36 minutes.

Yes, I almost shat my own pants too! And I wasn't speeding any more than I normally do too! Granted, I did have to press the pedal to the metal a couple times to beat the yellow lights. And I can admit that I totally blew a red light in one of those attempts! But still...

In all of the seven months that I have been driving regularly to Schaumburg, why didn't fate part the red sea for me a couple times, especially when I was running late, or during a stressful time? Nooo... Fate has to bless me with this eight wonder of the world ON THE LAST DAY OF MY PROJECT! When I didn't need it. And when I actually left the house super early just so I could go shop and have dinner. WTF?!?

Seriously, I think fate is not on my side. I think fate likes to make my life akin to Jon Arbuckle or Dilbert, with a minor adjustment: all the sucky stuff without the humor. Or maybe all my satirical life events find you amused as you read my blog. So yeah, this totally blows. When I realized it took merely 36 minutes, I instantly hummed the tune of Ironic by Alanis Morissette. Sigh...

Well, given the fact that this is quite possibly my last day at this project (while I'm secretly hoping that the client won't sign the new contract in time), I began to think of the things I've experienced because of this project. In no particular order:

GOOD: I have more of a reason to dine at Todai more frequently.

BAD: The weight gain as a result of being constantly peer pressured by client to go out to for lunch.

GOOD: The ability to almost always wake up at 08:00 and having only to be at work by 10:00.

BAD: Waking up late for work just feeds my night owl habit, which I admit is totally bad.

GOOD: The sudden need to use the toll roads around Chicago finally forced me to purchase the I-Pass transponder, especially after frustrated waiting in only two lanes to pay for toll during rush hour.

BAD: After only having put in less than a thousand miles in the first year I've owned my Land Rover, I suddenly had to change the oil on a regular schedule! And instead of filling up the gas tank once every two months, I now feel lucky if I only have to fill up once a week!

GOOD: I no longer fly out of town, and can enjoy sleeping in my own bed every night.

BAD: I no longer fly out of town, and because Schaumburg is so far away (in terms of commute time), the only free time I have left besides work is simply to go straight to my own bed every night!

GOOD: I get to do what all white trash folks love to do: illegal dumping. Well, sort of. Since my condominium doesn't really recycle, I bring in my empty bottles of sports drinks and rebottled municipal water to work once a week and dump them at my client site's recycling bin. I have never felt better doing something illegal while thinking it was the absolute right thing to do.

BAD: I now have to buy toilet paper more often, and worse, do the dishes way more often.

GOOD: Meeting new people (client employees) that I actually like and have hung out with during personal time.

BAD: Having to risk my life every day when I drive. I've seen beautiful college-age girls drive during rush hour with a textbook in her lap, stupid men driving during rush hour while reading the paper, stupid women driving during the evening rush hour putting on mascara so they could go straight to a date, dumbasses who gave me many opportunities to test the efficacy of my Land Rover's braking system who don't know how to use the mirror and turn signals and sideswipe you at 80 miles an hour, and people who ignore their stop sign and nearly t-boned me. Yeah, this last seven months have given me near heart attacks more alone than combined during my teenage years.

GOOD: I finally got to join basketball leagues and play pickup games of football.

BAD: I couldn't enjoy the basketball leagues I've joined because I had to work weekends.

GOOD: I discovered some authentic and cheap Chinese food out here: Asian Noodle House and Hong Kong Café.

BAD: Realizing that after today, I might not be able to enjoy cheap food at Asian Noodle House or Hong Kong Café, especially when factoring in the cost of gasoline used to get to Schaumburg.

GOOD: Discovering cheaper gasoline, usually at least 25 cents per gallon than the cheapest gasoline within the city of Chicago, at the I-90 oasis.

BAD: My cheap ass made me play the Kramer game, testing how far I could go on Empty, just so I could save a mere couple of bucks. (14 gallon tank times 25 cents per gallon.)

GOOD: Taking charge of a small project and perfecting my own process.

BAD: Working weekends and totally screwing up my sleep pattern.

GOOD: Shit... I'm running out of good things to say about this project.

BAD: Having to drive home delirious and tired after pulling an all-nighter. Health experts believe that tiredness like that has the equivalent mind acuity as driving drunk.

GOOD: Still can't find anything else good to say.

BAD: Poor restroom etiquettes such as other people peeing on the floor despite urinals with rather large drip lip and people sleeping on crappers, not to mention some inconsiderate people who don't give warnings.

So yeah, there you have it. It sure was good to reminisced about this long-ass project that was supposed to end in June. I think I'm ready to fly now and see the world. If not the wide world, at least the Midwest region. I wouldn't be opposed to going to Wisconsin for a change. =)

Stupid fate.

Crushing My Sliver of Hope

I'm tired. I'm worn. I'm discontent. But please don't get me wrong. I'm not complacent, nor depressed. But I'm no longer happy. My current project, worth $495,000, was supposed to be from January through June of this year. I was ecstatic to be working "locally," as this was the first time I didn't have to fly to another city in over six years of my colored career. But after having worked the grave yard shift on weekends and having my "days off" on Tuesdays and Wednesdays for the past three months, it has taken a toll on my life.

No social life whatsoever. Well, mostly. Definitely a non-existential dating life for the past seven months. It is kind of hard to ask your friends to go have a cold mug of beer on Monday or Tuesday nights, when all your friends have to be in bed by 22:30. And not only that, I have to flip back to normal shifts during the weekdays. So my sleeping pattern is all shot to hell. Even a six hour sleep is causing some serious baggage under my eyes.

Of course the client got rid of the I B M project manager just so they can stretch out the remaining hours for me, the person doing the actual technical work. When they did that in May, they estimated that they could keep me around through the end of July. In the back of my mind, I thought I could stick it out, and still have at least a month of summer left to myself.

Somehow, I managed to convince my direct line manager to grant me access to the project management tools at I B M. I started gathering the financial data on this contract. And what I discovered was exuberant news! After today, Friday July 20, there will be just 41.5 hours left in the contract. I was ecstatic. I was mentally thinking about all the street festivals I will be able to go with my friends; return to normal training schedule for the marathon; have normal sleeping patterns back; looking forward to waking up at 07:00 instead of 11:00; et cetera. I had to force myself to look sad and concerned seconds before talking with the client regarding this "pressing" issue.

When the client director and I finally got together to discuss this "concern," I had the former project manager on the phone. In just a matter of seconds, the sliver of hope in escaping this hell hole was completely crushed. Just like, snap, that! All I remembered hearing was the client reacting happily to something like this from the former I B M project manager: "Bla bla bla, your company previously had a huge hardware contract, bla bla bla, you may have some credits from that, bla bla bla, I B M salespeople are trying to shift those credits, bla bla bla, worth $300,000."

Holy mother of God! If the client managed to stretch half a million dollars through mid July, then I can only imagine that if the salespeople can successfully pull off their magic, how much longer the client can stretch out 300 grand! The project originally had a target completion date by the end of June. Then in June, they revised it to July. And a couple weeks ago, revised yet again to the end of August. At this rate we're going, I may possibly have gone a full circle back to winter before I am done. That would've been a year of my life where I simply lost my weekends.

Aaarrrggghhh!!! Someone please put me out of my misery!

What Not To Do When You Have To Work At 21:00 On Friday

Knowing that I have to work on Friday night, I decided to sleep in and go to the I B M office at 13:00 for my client’s conference call. Although it was supposed to last an hour, I didn’t even leave the I B M office till 17:45. And the worst part about it? Despite the fact that I have created a calendar marking all the dates for which all the servers I was supposed to work on as well as created a spreadsheet inventorying all said servers along with their dates, someone dropped the ball and forgot to get the final approval in for an activity that was scheduled for this coming Monday since June 15! Despite sending out email after email, as well as the said documentation, someone on the client side dropped the ball. As a result, the activity is now postponed.

I was so frustrated by this lack of dedication on the client part, that I wanted to scream at the office. I’d be lying if I wasn’t banging on the desk during the call, smashing my head on the table, and muting the telephone just so I can get out of the chair and start jumping up and down while pulling my hair. I even went as far as slamming shut the screen of my laptop so hard that I had to check and make sure that nothing broke. Aarrgghh!!!

After hanging up the phone, I wrote a politically-correct way of expressing my frustration. I have learned early on in my career that in order to get what you want, or to express your frustration without putting people in a defensive mode, you simply have to play with words. I hate to say this, but I’m really good at it, even though in real life when it comes to interacting with my personal relationships, I’m not a bull-shitter. I say it just as it is. Anyway, this is the email I sent out:

Guys, what can I do to ensure things like this don't happen again? I have created the spreadsheet with the dates discussed from the 06/15 meeting we all had with [client manager], as well as created the calendar indicating which servers had been approved/agreed to and which ones are still needing approval with several icons/markers, and continually updating them and sending them out. The spreadsheet has buttons that will let you sort by proposed dates so we can see what's coming and pressing. I have also sent out emails with a summary of upcoming servers for the week that are in question, as well as discussing them during the Wednesday status meeting. If there is anything I can do to help you out and make this more streamlined and helpful, please do let me know. If the documents I've created and sent out are not meeting your needs, please please do not hesitate to let me know what I can do to improve them. I'll do my best to enable all of us to see this project through completion with as much ease as possible.

Of course, anybody who knows how to play corporate politics will see through the smoke that this is extreme frustration in disguise. I was so pissed that after doing all the project management work for the project manager, shit are still not getting in order. So in my need to let steam off, I called up Rosa, Sabine and Cesar. The plan? Go to Rivers Bar and Grill by the River at the Mercantile Exchange, and drink our frustrations away. After all, Sabine had a shitty day at work as well.

We all convened around 18:00, and began relaxing. The first round? I had a Miller Lite, while the others had a Screw Driver. The second round? We all had the 24-ounce Fat Tyre beer, save for Rosa who can’t drink beer. Another glass of Screw Driver for her. The third round? Another round of said Fat Tyre except for Rosa, who I suspect is a super light weight. By the time we downed our drinks and food, it was already 20:15.

Nothing wrong, right? Except I still had to go home, get in my car, and drive to Schaumburg, which is a cool hour away and work at 21:00! Remember that I had to work overnight, thus the sleeping in? Yeah...

Kids, here are the two things you shouldn’t do if you are pressing for time and have to go to work.

ONE: Try not to have a massive “happy” hour immediately before you have to go to work. And if you absolutely must have “happy” hour to release the pressures of work, don’t go for three rounds of drinks in a matter of two hours.

TWO: If you know a few days ago that you have to work overnight on Friday, fill up the tank before waiting till the hour when you are leaving for work. On Wednesday after work, although my tank was running low with the empty indicator light turned on, I decided to postpone filling up my tank till the day I go to work. So naturally, while on my way to work tonight, I was getting really nervous. Not only was I really, really late, I was tempting the devil much like Kramer did when he took the used car out for a test drive, checking to see how far they can go with the empty indicator light being on.

By the time I got to my favorite, and pseudo-closest, gas station, this is what it looked like on my instrument panel (note the needle on the gas gauge):


So kids, take my two lessons and file them in your little head for future reference. Lucky me, I’m not fired (yet), and I didn’t get stranded on I-94 without a portable gas tank in my vehicle. =)

Update (2007.06.25): Thank you to those of you who felt concerned about my well-being. Apparently my statement on lesson number one was concerning some of you. And I admit I did not elaborate as much when I wrote this entry, and due to readers' concerns, I have to clarify a few things.
1) I wasn't drunk after the happy hour, despite the fact it was 3 drinks in a little over 2 hours.
2) I cheated. I actually gave half a bottle of my last beer to Cesar at the tail end, because I knew I had to go to work.
3) After the whole happy hour thing, I did have to walk to the Metra station, wait for the train, ride the train, walk a while to find my friend's car, catch a ride from her who supposedly parked near(?) the Metra, etc before I myself got into my car and drove to work.

The whole point of lesson number one was not about how one should not get smashed immediately before leaving for work, although that is actually good advice for anybody. In my context, it was more about having a longer-than-planned happy hour till 45 minutes before having to be at work, when you know it will take you about an hour to drive there, and another half hour to get to your car at the very least.

In any case, I really appreciate your concerns.

Is that chocolate?

Have you ever dreamed something so real, that you actually believed that every figment of your imagination was real occurrences? I sure do; plenty of time. But this weekend was kind of weird. Everything felt like a dream, except I was pretty sure that everything that passed by was real. Everything was a huge blur.

It all started with Friday evening. Instead of the ritualistic drive home, I mysteriously found myself still sitting in front of my laptop at work, pecking away. If you didn't know me, or realize the department I was sitting at, you would have thought that I was a code breaker or something, all hunched over a tiny electronic gadgetry with earphones fitted snugly into my ears.

Throughout the day, everybody treated me as if I was stricken with advanced stage cancer, ready to go off into the sunset and die the next day. Quite honestly, it was a strange feeling, for technically it wasn't my last day there. Sure, I was going to Los Angeles to their other office to lead the project there just like I had kick started the now-undergoing project at their Chicago office. "I'll be back once in a while, no worries," I'd say.

Truth be told, I wasn't quite sure. But just in case it was as certain as there are twenty-four hours in a day, I was going to wrap things up. Document everything that has been saved in my little head, and do as much as possible so that I would leave them well prepared and organized. Much like your mother did when she overstuffed your lunch box with too many snacks, various assortment of writing utensils in your school bag, on your way to first ever day of school. Not that I did it because my partner was came with some tools missing in his toolbox, but that I was heavily relied on to keep things in order. I was worried that the fruits of my labor would not ripen in my absence.

When all was done and squared away, I noticed there was light. I shot a quick look at the direction of the clock hanging off the ceiling far away. The short hand hovered near 8. Damn! And I thought I was going to leave work around midnight to join some friends at a bar. I took stock of how time passed, and I realized that I haven't had dinner, except for a couple bottles of Diet Pepsi and a half-eaten birthday cake.

Here I was, starved and tired, stumbling down to the garage so I could drive home feeling relieved. The highway was fine, but once I got off to head down local streets, all hell broke loose. Apparently there are a lot of people meandering around nine in the morning on a Saturday. Typically you would find me fast asleep still at that hour. I have never seen the world hustling and bustling on an early Saturday morning.

While I was suck behind a traffic light, my friend called. A short exchange later, I was going to meet her for breakfast. With my clothes having been worn for two days now, and my mouth tasting worse than a cat's. If I can taste the unpleasantness, I wondered how it would smell. I quickly cupped my left hand to my mouth and breathed out slowly. I almost fainted. The driver in the car next to me was amused to my random behavior. I swore she kind of laughed. Or it was quite possible her smile and laughter were the creation of my sleepy imagination, which was an attempt to make me feel good after realizing how amazingly cute she was.

Now, come to think of it, I'm not even certain if she was cute to begin with! Could it have been a man?

Anyway, breakfast was delicious. In my current state of affairs, a piece of old, dried leather would have tasted mightily fine as well. Just as long I was supplied with ground pepper and a large bottle of Tabasco sauce. I swear, Tabasco sauce makes everything taste better, despite my general distaste for vinegar, commonly used in spicy sauces produced in, and for, the United States.

I enjoyed the company, but was in a hurry to get home. After all, I felt a thin and sticky film glazing over my eyelids. With every single blink, I struggled to peel back my eye lids. So I dropped my friend off, and hurried home. The clock read 11:15, and I debated if I should just stay awake so that my sleep cycle doesn't get screwed up. Needless to say, I tore off my clothes like a young man getting ready to bed an unbelievably hot girl for the first time as soon as I stumbled into my bedroom. Unlike said young man, I fell asleep as soon as part of my torso hit the bed.

Saturday was a blur. Someone called in the midst of my deep slumber, and I vaguely remember talking on the phone, with the clock flickering 15:30. Before I knew it, I roused myself up around six in the evening, despite the fact that I was still dead tired. I think I somehow managed to tackle my biological experiment in my kitchen, which I have procrastinated again and again, for almost three weeks. As I ran hot water over a stack of dishes and bowls, a strong and interesting scent came off. Damn! I'm never letting dishes pile up for so long, I thought. Even though I have scrapped the dishes after each use before leaving it in the sink, they still managed to sprout out different kinds of fungus and mold. Each plate had a different kind. I thought to myself, this must be the Korean mold from when I ate Korean food on this plate, and that must be the Iranian brethren of similar living microbes on that plate. There were a few I couldn't quite identify, and I was quite certain I must have created a whole new bacterium.

Eww!!! I thought to myself in disgust. Then, being the always reasoning person that I am, I quickly brushed aside my recent thought and said, "You know, I could be a Nobel Laureate, for I could have somehow discovered, no, created, something that could fight off incontinence in old people. What a shame that I had to wash it all down...

Because of my insane obsession with cleanliness, it took me a couple hours to do the dishes, when normally it would have taken far shorter. Somehow, I managed to muster up the will and motivation to work on this little chore. Maybe because I would hate the idea of coming home next weekend from Los Angeles finding some giant walking spore of a mold smoking a cigarette on m couch, watching the Learning Channel on television.

The rest of the evening after my cleaning bout was rather uneventful. I watched The Chronicles of Narnia on Starz! HD before packing my suitcase and heading to bed for the second time that day. I had something to go and do on Sunday morning, as it related to the call from some stranger while I was sleeping in the afternoon earlier.

The alarms were blaring, and I hurried to get ready. I can't be late for this thing, as it was going to be my first. Besides, they were going to provide free breakfast. Nothing motivates me more than the promise of free food. Never mind the fact that I make enough money to have breakfast delivered to my doorstep through one of those gourmet food delivery companies, which I liken as the middlemen of restaurants all over Chicago and lazy consumers like myself. Even the threat of missing my flight if I had an early morning flight was no match to free food, as witnessed by the fact that I have overslept and missed my Monday morning flight maybe three or four times in my career.

While I stood there talking with the stranger who called me the day before, I apologized profusely if I sounded like I was drunk or high like a drug addict on a Saturday afternoon. Of course, my apologies were barely there, because there was free food to be had, and this guy looks like the uglier version of Edward Norton. When I moved down the aisle to inspect other foods on the table, I stared at the tray of bagels. There were two distinct kinds; one with all kinds of scary looking seeds, and another with brown dots spotting all over the culinary delights.

As I studied the second batch of bagels, a lady from behind chimed in, as if she was reading my mind: "You suppose those are chocolate chips or raisins?" I thought she was so brilliant, as I was wondering whether they were clusters of rat shit or just bad flour. Her options made it more edible than mine, that was for sure. So I picked one up, and started chatting.

When I finally got to my table and took a bite of said bagel, I almost gagged. My first instinct was to spit it out, but for one, I was starving, and second, it wouldn't have looked good for me to hurl the meshed bagel bite onto my plate in front of people I have never met before. Chocolate chip, I like. Raisins, I hate, but if they were baked into the bagel, I could learn to tolerate it. But of all the real plausible choices, it was neither, and I secretly wished I was eating a bagel full of rat shit. Of all the things a baker can make bagels with, he had to choose clusters of cinnamon!

Great! What a way to die on the plane en route to Los Angeles. This was certainly not the mile high club I had planned to join so soon.

Is There a Full Moon?

Okay. This week sucked. On Tuesday I worked till Wednesday morning at 03:30. Last night I worked till 20:30. Today? It is now 21:12, and I'm still at work. At least I'm now done with work and doing some writing, as I would imagine that I don't want to touch another computer the minute I get home. =)

So I'm working late right? The doors to the stairwell are locked. The air-conditioning units are slowly being turned off. The whole building is getting a little warmer. And the cleaning crew are out and about making noise pushing industrial-sized rolling trash bins and wearing huge vacuum cleaners strapped to their backs like a Rocketeer.

As usual, I try to be courteous to the cleaning staff. For without them, my daily morning ritual to the restroom would certainly turn unpleasant with the aroma of fresh ammonia replaced by the scent of years-old piss. When one of the crew cleans out my trash can, I'll say muchos gracias and smile. For the most part, they try to say you're welcome in some form of English. I like it when they put the effort to speak English.

I thought I have seen most of the cleaning crew here at this particular client site, but today there must be someone new. Either that, or someone I have not seen before. But in any case, he is a little, short, skinny Hispanic dude. At first glance, he seemed nice. But when he came by to pick up my trash can, I thanked him and smiled. He in return smiled.

My heart skipped a beat.

This guy, despite the impression he casts with his small frame, had regular teeth, except for his sharp, cutting molars. They were brighter and whiter than the rest of his teeth! And they were unusually longer too!

I didn't think vampires existed, but he made a very good case that they might exist. Sure, he may not have leaned over and tried to bite into the side of my neck, but the second he turned around and moved on down to the next cube, I promptly looked out the window to make sure a full moon is not in bloom!

Then it dawned on me... It is only werewolves that are affected by the moon. Doh!!!

This so totally blows...

It is now 03:55. In the morning.

I just got home. It rained. Hard. But traffic was barely existent. Nevertheless, the drive home didn’t suck any less. On the bright side, with the non-existent traffic, I didn’t see a single driver read a book while driving. Safer for me that way.

I left work at 03:10. I noticed that of all the people who dropped their cars off for the free valet, I was the one of the two who were still burning the midnight oil. I didn’t so bad. Until my mind started wondering off. Like this:

That final key that had yet to be claimed probably belonged to some hot executive or vice president. She may have some years on her, but she has learned to keep herself in great health. I would imagine her cholesterol to be below the average percentile for her age group. But she wasn’t at work. She had simply called her husband at home to tell him that it was going to be another long night. It didn’t matter much anyway, as her two kids are now in high school; pretty well-grown to be self-sufficient, sort of.

The plan was to go have drinks with this young, studly guy who reports to her. New to the company, new to the job. But he was eager to do whatever it takes to move on up on the fast track. And somehow, one thing led to another, and before long, they ended up going to a nice hotel nearby. Eventually, they had a late dinner ordered in from room service.

Meanwhile, I was still working back at the office. Dinner consisted of a cup of hot chocolate, a pack of expired Strawberry Pop Tarts with a broken safety seal, and two bags of animal crackers. Oh yeah, and two 20 ounce bottles of Diet Pepsi. {What kind of vending machine holds three fourths of the buttons for either Diet Pepsi or Pepsi, with the remaining for yet more Pepsi in a can for 25 cents cheaper? Why don’t they add one button for something like, say, water?!?} Anyway, dinner was not great, but not indulgent either. I’d say it fell within my own guidelines for this diet I’m on now. Maybe it was probably high on the sugar and low on protein and fibre. Oh well.

As I approached my car at the garage, I thought about how by now the lustful couple had finally caught their second wind after a delicious, gourmet seafood dinner and were at it again, while my tummy grumbled in the cold.

I quickly snapped out of it in an instant.

Why do I have to torture myself with such fantasies?!? The appropriate thing would have been dreaming of me being the guy with that executive!!! I’m pathetic...

It's In My Blood

Some time back in January, I got quite excited learning that I landed a long-term project that would keep me local at least for three months. Although by local they meant Schaumburg, I was pretty excited because I have never ever had a client remotely close to home. I thought this was one of the best things to happen to me in 2007. Until I experienced the long-ass commute from home. That put the kibosh on the excitement rather quickly. Something like in a matter of a couple days!

But I stuck it out. Then I started feeling like something was amiss. Every time I walk through my bedroom, that red suitcase looked pretty sad, all alone and neglected on the floor. It has not seen any action for months. I feel like I already forgot how to do expense reports, and my corporate American Express card no longer deserved a spot in my tiny wallet. My hotel points became stagnant, and I dreaded the inevitable fact that I may soon lose my Diamond Elite status with Hilton.

Sure, it was fun to be home everyday, but with the long commutes, all I wanted to do was take off my shoes and coat, cook dinner, and watch television. Nothing more, nothing less. Sure, I could go out every night and socialize, but it is unfamiliar territory. Worst of all, I no longer have funny and unique experiences usually associated with traveling that I can blog about.

I know I've said before that I want to get a job that will keep me in town. Start "settling" down, in terms of having a root, not like having a wife and children. I want that too, but not right now. And I'd be lying if I wasn't excited when I learned that I was finally heading out to Los Angeles to meet the western side of the client team. I couldn't wait to go!

Here I am, in Los Angeles. A city I really don't enjoy being in. But I'm still happy. I just don't know what's the biggest cause of it: that I finally got to travel, or that I have the opportunity to visit my little sister, a favorite uncle and a friend. I'm leaning towards being happiest because of my sister. So I'll still stick to the game plan. This traveling bit has still got to stop by the time I hit 30. That's the timetable. At least that's what I tell myself. =)

Restroom is not exactly a rest room...

BL: MA

READER DISCRETION ADVISED

This blog has been rated MA for mature audience.

So I work at this client site in Schaumburg, right? Well, they have several buildings, all of which are somewhat energy efficient. In other words, you'll hardly find any manual switches. Every lighting switch is timed to go off based on motion detection, restrooms included.

Anyway, I work at a building with twenty-something odd floors. At this particular tower, the fifth floor is entirely dedicated to the data center on raised flooring which services IT computing infrastructure for operations in Europe and North America. Because the data center is in a secured zone, and only two operators work within it, the restrooms on that floor are seldom used. How do I know that? For one, all the data center employees are female, and two, almost every time I walk into the restroom, the motion detector would trigger the lights to come on, suggesting no one has used it in a while.

If I don't work and sit in the data center but on the seventh floor, one may beg the question, "Why do you even use the restroom on the fifth floor?" Good question, I might concede. Well... Uhm...

Let's just put it this way. The restrooms on each floor have only two urinals and two toilets each. That configuration is obviously for the men's side of course, as I have no idea what the configuration is for women's. (Or maybe I do know, but I'm pretending not to...) With so little facilities in the men's restroom, it can sometimes be crowded considering that each floor seats about 150 employees. {How do I know that figure? It helps to be friendly and in good terms with one of the two floor administrators.} In other words, there are times, many times in fact, when the restroom is extremely nasty and filthy. I swear, most, if not all, men are just pigs. Sometimes I wish they were just as anal as I am when it comes to cleanliness and germ phobia.

And because of the sheer number of people working per floor, I sometimes have to wait for people; or worse yet, be waited on. It is especially horrible when I'm dropping the kids off at the pool, as that delicate (and intimate) process is definitely something I hate to be rushed on, you know? And with feet tapping impatiently on the other side of the super thin partitions/walls with cracks that you can see through, said kids being dropped off at the pool may, you know, at times have stage fright, thus prolonging the unnecessary long process.

So for reasons I have mentioned above, I enjoy going down to the fifth floor to use the restroom. I don't have to wait on anybody; nobody has to wait for me; and best of all, it is much cleaner. Not to mention the lack of a certain constant funky smell. And I know that nobody has used it in a while, because every time I go in there, the lights are off and my entrance would trigger the switch to turn on the lights. That feeling is akin to reading a fresh, crisp newspaper which you know nobody else have unfolded its pages. Ahh... My private restroom sanctuary...

But my private restroom sanctuary is there for me to escape the crowds and yuckiness. Apparently, just the other day, I discovered that this same restroom is also a private sanctuary for another person, but for totally different reasons. I walked in, and as expected, the lights were off. But as soon as the lights were turned on by the motion detector, lo and behold an employee got up hurriedly from the floor, apparently having a leisurely afternoon nap!

Whoa!!! I know the fifth floor restroom is clean, but not that clean! I just stood there, jaw dropped, while he groggilymade a dash for the door. Was I supposed to laugh? Was I supposed to stare? Was I supposed to avoid eye contact AND not laugh?

I wanted to tell him that he should somehow obtain a key to "mothers' rooms" scattered throughout the building. At least those rooms are cleaner, almost soundproof, and lockable so as to not disturb his sweet lullaby. The downside of this, aside from the fact of needing to convince human resources to supply him with a key, is that he will be there along with, uhm, specialty pumps.

Sexy is Not Professional

Today marked the one week anniversary of working at my new project in Schaumburg. Although we have had a slow start, I think I have been doing quite well.

Anyway, I knew I had a bunch of meetings today to plan out the project, do the weekly status meetings and the sorts. But during one of our I B M only meeting without the clients, my phone busted out ringing. My ring tone since Christmas has been Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back. Apparently, my project manager has never heard that song.

He glared at me in disbelief. I fumbled around my coat pocket looking for the darn thing so I could turn it off. Before I could it either silence the ring or end the call, my project manager finally said, "What? Are we supposed to dance to this?"

My coworker busted out laughing. My project manager kept his leer. I finally turned it off, but it was too late. Right! I managed to cap my first week at work with great fanfare. How professional is that?