Tonight I sat through the worst econ class. It’s not that the material was uninteresting-quite the opposite. But the professor crammed so much stuff in that my brain hurt before he stopped for break and he didn’t let up after break.
He was talking about Keynesian Economics, which is a subject I have long wanted to know more about. My favorite economist (Paul Krugman) tends to be a Keynesian, so I want to know more about how that system of thought works. The professor warned us that tonight’s talk was going to be even dryer than usual, which earned him a laugh, because, well at least he was honest about it.
I suppose, that compared to the Supply Side talk he gave Tuesday this was a much better lecture. The lecture on Supply Side Economics was kind of muddy and it was very clear that even though he had to present the material to us even the professor thought it was “Voodoo Economics.” (I tried to explain this gently to my study group, I am not sure I was successful. “The lecture doesn’t make any sense because the theory doesn’t make sense”)
Tonight’s lecture was thorough-a bit too thorough. And the professor got his notes messed up, and wrote down the wrong number for one of the complicated equations we were working our way through. He apologized. “I don’t know why my notes don’t make sense tonight-I have been using the same notes for 20 years.” I can forgive him for that because he’s very good in general. He generally presents things sensibly and because he’s teaching a lecture course on material that is slightly dryer than the Sahara he’s good at using humor to keep us awake. He’s also figured out our names, for which I applaud him. However, tonight he was merciless.
He kept throwing information at us at an appalling rate. When at 8:45 he said “I think we’ve covered a decent amount of material tonight” I started putting my notebook away. Dear Reader, I was not the only one doing so-I could hear the rustling. But then he proceeded to throw another two equations at us. I was almost in tears by the time he was done. I hated everyone that asked him a question that night (including me.) The one small consolation for my ego was while I was sitting there gibbering and trying to keep up and not feel Math-Deficient, the guy sitting in front of me (who was on top of all of the math) lost his place and asked me a question, which I answered easily and correctly. This gave me enough grounding to be able to listen to the rest of the lecture, but still it was brutal.
As I said above, I was not uninterested in the material. Even the math wasn’t outside of my capabilities. In fact, since it was mostly about slopes of lines (and whether or not they were lines or curves) it was all within the realm of stuff I can actually do. But there was just too much to absorb in an evening. When I got on the shuttle bus I noted that there was no one I knew, which was good-in case I actually started crying.
I’m not a slacker. This is not Carleton College in 1996. I am doing the coursework and I am interested in the subject. But my brain was full at 8 PM, and although I took good notes after that I have no idea what was in them. After 8 the brain bucket was full and anything the professor said fell out over the edge.
On the other hand, life could be a lot worse. For example, a year ago I was in a relationship that was falling apart, I had a friend dying at MGH and I was about to take the GMAT.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Tourists
Yesterday in Salem I saw two tourists huddled over a map. Without thinking (or perhaps thinking it would be nice to be helpful) I walked up to them and asked them if I could find what they were looking for. This is the second or third time I have done something similar this year and it is a reversal of lifelong policy of hostility to tourists and people in general. As such it’s kind of scary.
I grew up in New York City. In high school we felt the contempt of the recently initiated and the impatient towards tourists. “Why don’t they understand which trains are express and which are locals?” “Did you hear what she said-it’s ChAmbers Street- not Chambres Street.” “He said he was looking for Hyusoton Street-not Houston.” Really, I thought to myself, why couldn’t these people learn to read a subway map, or just stay in St Louis or at the very least Get Out of My Way!
After high school and college, I lived in New York and Paris and Cambridge and my opinion of tourists did not change. I admitted to myself that these people were good for the local economy, but they were such a pain. In Paris, sitting by Notre Dame I saw an American teenage boy complaining that there were all these French people around. Really? In Paris? Oh my God who could have imagined this? Clearly he and his family should have come back in August. (In August on the Metro, I noted to myself, looking up and down the train car that I was in fact, the only person in the car who was Parisienne.)
Hating tourists is as natural to me as having freckles or voting democratic. So I am very surprised that I have, apparently, without letting myself know, changed my mind on the “tourist” question.
In April I was in town on a Saturday on my way to UMB to meet up with my team and there was a man who was trying to take a picture of his daughter. Without thinking, I offered to take a picture of both of them and then, when he couldn’t delete enough pictures off of his camera I offered to take a picture on my phone and e-mail it to him. Which I did. It took five minutes of my time. And I was already early for my meeting, but offering unsolicited help to strangers is unusual to me. And yet I did it, without thinking.
So what does one do, when one’s lifelong policy towards tourists has changed (without the “gut feeling” part of one’s personality bothering to inform the upper management?)
I have had several answers from friends. One says that I am more friendly to other humans because I no longer live in Cambridge, where we were packed in like sardines in a can. Another suggests that it’s empathy that works in me-I have been and will be again a lost tourist.
But I think it’s something else. I hate talking to people. But if the conversation falls within the realm of things I can do or things I understand then I want to talk. I want to be helpful. For example, yesterday I was in a book shop in Gloucester and a woman came in looking for a book for her niece as a graduation gift. I listened to her talking to the bookseller and saying that her niece and all the other girls were crazy about this book series-she couldn’t remember what it was called, but it was one word..” Twilight.” I suggested. Yes, that was it. I recommended Jane Austen (which the bookseller found for her).
It doesn’t matter if I’m among complete strangers-there are certain things that I feel competent to state my opinion about (even though I am generally afraid of people.) Bookselling has always fallen into that category. PC maintenance falls into that category.
Apparently finding your way around Salem also falls in that category. But I wouldn’t be interested in approaching any of these people 12 months ago. Since then I’ve found friends. I’ve learned to be confident. I’ve learned that I do know a few things. And this has changed my relationship with humanity.
It’s scary. But that does not mean it’s bad.
I grew up in New York City. In high school we felt the contempt of the recently initiated and the impatient towards tourists. “Why don’t they understand which trains are express and which are locals?” “Did you hear what she said-it’s ChAmbers Street- not Chambres Street.” “He said he was looking for Hyusoton Street-not Houston.” Really, I thought to myself, why couldn’t these people learn to read a subway map, or just stay in St Louis or at the very least Get Out of My Way!
After high school and college, I lived in New York and Paris and Cambridge and my opinion of tourists did not change. I admitted to myself that these people were good for the local economy, but they were such a pain. In Paris, sitting by Notre Dame I saw an American teenage boy complaining that there were all these French people around. Really? In Paris? Oh my God who could have imagined this? Clearly he and his family should have come back in August. (In August on the Metro, I noted to myself, looking up and down the train car that I was in fact, the only person in the car who was Parisienne.)
Hating tourists is as natural to me as having freckles or voting democratic. So I am very surprised that I have, apparently, without letting myself know, changed my mind on the “tourist” question.
In April I was in town on a Saturday on my way to UMB to meet up with my team and there was a man who was trying to take a picture of his daughter. Without thinking, I offered to take a picture of both of them and then, when he couldn’t delete enough pictures off of his camera I offered to take a picture on my phone and e-mail it to him. Which I did. It took five minutes of my time. And I was already early for my meeting, but offering unsolicited help to strangers is unusual to me. And yet I did it, without thinking.
So what does one do, when one’s lifelong policy towards tourists has changed (without the “gut feeling” part of one’s personality bothering to inform the upper management?)
I have had several answers from friends. One says that I am more friendly to other humans because I no longer live in Cambridge, where we were packed in like sardines in a can. Another suggests that it’s empathy that works in me-I have been and will be again a lost tourist.
But I think it’s something else. I hate talking to people. But if the conversation falls within the realm of things I can do or things I understand then I want to talk. I want to be helpful. For example, yesterday I was in a book shop in Gloucester and a woman came in looking for a book for her niece as a graduation gift. I listened to her talking to the bookseller and saying that her niece and all the other girls were crazy about this book series-she couldn’t remember what it was called, but it was one word..” Twilight.” I suggested. Yes, that was it. I recommended Jane Austen (which the bookseller found for her).
It doesn’t matter if I’m among complete strangers-there are certain things that I feel competent to state my opinion about (even though I am generally afraid of people.) Bookselling has always fallen into that category. PC maintenance falls into that category.
Apparently finding your way around Salem also falls in that category. But I wouldn’t be interested in approaching any of these people 12 months ago. Since then I’ve found friends. I’ve learned to be confident. I’ve learned that I do know a few things. And this has changed my relationship with humanity.
It’s scary. But that does not mean it’s bad.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Here's how it Works
I had class tonight. I'm still nervous enough in my new class environment that I don't feel comfortable around my new classmates-I don't know what to say or how to say it, yet.
For example, if I say that I've taken both Micro and Macro Econ before, does it sound like I'm boasting? If I mention that I've gotten through MGT 650 (the gate through which all College of Management students must pass) does *that* sound like I'm boasting? (I hope not-I'm rather proud of myself for surviving that experience. And having done so, even a double time summer session looks like a doable amount of work.)
So because I'm nervous about how to interact with people, and because I have an extra ten minutes before class I sit for a few minutes in the courtyard outside of McCormack building. I remark to myself that this courtyard is a good deal more hospitable than it was when I first encountered it in February. I remind myself that that I belong here while I watch important looking people rush around in preparation for tomorrow's commencement. I reinforce my psyche with some nice loud music.
I don't tell myself to stop worrying about how I'm interacting with people-that would be pointless. I merely point out to myself, that I will, at some point get over this nervousness. I've done it before. I may not get over it tonight, but it will go away.
This is where the loud music helps. It feels like home and, as such, allows me to calm down enough to the point where I can think these things.
And then I go into the building, climb three flights of stairs and deal with it.
Apologies for spelling errors- I typed this up on my phone on the commuter whale.
For example, if I say that I've taken both Micro and Macro Econ before, does it sound like I'm boasting? If I mention that I've gotten through MGT 650 (the gate through which all College of Management students must pass) does *that* sound like I'm boasting? (I hope not-I'm rather proud of myself for surviving that experience. And having done so, even a double time summer session looks like a doable amount of work.)
So because I'm nervous about how to interact with people, and because I have an extra ten minutes before class I sit for a few minutes in the courtyard outside of McCormack building. I remark to myself that this courtyard is a good deal more hospitable than it was when I first encountered it in February. I remind myself that that I belong here while I watch important looking people rush around in preparation for tomorrow's commencement. I reinforce my psyche with some nice loud music.
I don't tell myself to stop worrying about how I'm interacting with people-that would be pointless. I merely point out to myself, that I will, at some point get over this nervousness. I've done it before. I may not get over it tonight, but it will go away.
This is where the loud music helps. It feels like home and, as such, allows me to calm down enough to the point where I can think these things.
And then I go into the building, climb three flights of stairs and deal with it.
Apologies for spelling errors- I typed this up on my phone on the commuter whale.
Monday, May 31, 2010
A Good Day at Work
When I started working for my present employer, most days were good days. Now, the reverse is true. To be fair, when I started working for my current employer it was December of 2001. The firm had six employees and I was all of the support staff (everything from answering the phone to rebooting the mail server or performing light carpentry) and we now have 13 employees (we once had as many as 16) and I am only responsible for the firm's IT. Also to be fair, even after the unfortunate events of 2008, they still pay me and (I assume) my fellow support staff members much much better than they could afford to pay us all in 2001.
But that is all background information. Suffice to say that the atmosphere at my place of employ is horrible. This is particularly saddening since all of my coworkers-even those I don't particularly get along with-are ethical, hard working folks. There's not a bad apple among them. In spite of this, because of management problems, I can't even collaborate well with my friends among the staff.
However, every once in a while we have a day or two that reminds me of the big happy family that we used to be (the one that some of us are still pretending we are.)
On Friday I arrived to find a crowd at my cubicle. I was at first a bit concerned, but this crowd didn't look like an angry mob, in fact, they were smiling. They were smiling because my cubicle-mate Aaron* was planning to propose to his girlfriend this afternoon at lunch. Marc and Ellen were standing around talking to him about it. Aaron was smiling a little and glowing. Ellen marched off to reschedule a meeting that the three of them had with our boss Henry from later in the day to Right Now, so that the deck would be cleared for Aaron sooner, rather than later.
Word spread. Erin, who did not get to the office until 10 because she did Junior Achievement on Fridays (and, incidentally, had stopped off at UMB to pick up my textbook for me for summer session-thanks Erin) came over as soon as she had changed from her flip flops to her office heels. Janie, the office manager was soon over in our neck of the woods as well. I realize that I had never considering proposing marriage to anyone, but I had no idea there were so many complicated parts to asking someone "will you marry me?" Perhaps the complicated parts have been added because it's such a scary question to ask.
I'm going to go all existentialist for a moment and say that "Will you marry me" is a speech act. It's a rare situation where saying something is in fact doing something. Perhaps that's why Aaron, who is a quiet type was willing to discuss this with us, his coworkers, before asking his girlfriend this so-important question. Erin wanted to make sure he had gone the traditional route and discussed this with his girlfriend's father first (he had) and then there were other points that she raised-had he planned on telling the restaurant? "They can make sure you have a table outside or a quiet table." she pointed out.
Aaron flourished under all this feminine attention. He wouldn't show us the ring (fair enough.) He had booked a trip to Paris, which he had discussed with me and Marc. We hadn't realized when he asked our advice that he hadn't told the girlfriend about it yet. It was to be a surprise engagement gift. "You do realize," Marc said with an eyebrow raised "That you have raised the bar for Erin's Boy." We all laughed.
Someone suggested presenting the ring on a dessert. "Oh no!" I said, "Then you'd get to go to MGH to have her stomach pumped." Several people nodded their heads wisely.
Someone asked Ellen how her husband had proposed to her. "Well we'd gone to see these fireworks. And he said he needed to talk to me and pulled me aside. He was sure I'd noticed the bulge in his pocket from the box with the ring in it-I hadn't."
Our boss, who had broken his hip and consequently was more likely to buzz people on the intercom than go see them hobbled over with his cane to say a few hopeful words to Aaron.
I was sure that while the young ladies of the firm were all aflutter about Aaron's impending engagement, the middle aged economist would be too hard nosed to be much affected. I was wrong. I heard her squealing like the rest of the girls when she heard the news. I went down to our main conference rooms where one of our interns was waiting to have a meeting with her and explained that she was delayed because "Aaron is proposing to his girlfriend this afternoon."
I watched the rest of the firm show up and offer their best wishes throughout the morning. The other owner, Richard, showed up and said "What's this I hear?" with a big smile on his face. "Did someone post a status update to our company's facebook page-come and see the condemned man while you can?" I asked. Richard laughed, but every time he passed our cubicles for the rest of the morning he said "tick tick tick tick."
"What a good thing she isn't meeting you in here." Janie remarked. "We'd all stare at her."
"Where are you going for lunch?" Asked Erin "We could all go there as well." Weird as it sounds, I could see this happening.
Finally it was 1 PM and Aaron was still in the office. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Get out of here before someone assigns you a project." Finally he did leave a few minutes later. He seemed all chuffed and full of sunlight. He stopped to talk to the office manager and I saw her hand him some gum before he left. Clearly we had done all we could for him.
*Names changed to protect the innocent
But that is all background information. Suffice to say that the atmosphere at my place of employ is horrible. This is particularly saddening since all of my coworkers-even those I don't particularly get along with-are ethical, hard working folks. There's not a bad apple among them. In spite of this, because of management problems, I can't even collaborate well with my friends among the staff.
However, every once in a while we have a day or two that reminds me of the big happy family that we used to be (the one that some of us are still pretending we are.)
On Friday I arrived to find a crowd at my cubicle. I was at first a bit concerned, but this crowd didn't look like an angry mob, in fact, they were smiling. They were smiling because my cubicle-mate Aaron* was planning to propose to his girlfriend this afternoon at lunch. Marc and Ellen were standing around talking to him about it. Aaron was smiling a little and glowing. Ellen marched off to reschedule a meeting that the three of them had with our boss Henry from later in the day to Right Now, so that the deck would be cleared for Aaron sooner, rather than later.
Word spread. Erin, who did not get to the office until 10 because she did Junior Achievement on Fridays (and, incidentally, had stopped off at UMB to pick up my textbook for me for summer session-thanks Erin) came over as soon as she had changed from her flip flops to her office heels. Janie, the office manager was soon over in our neck of the woods as well. I realize that I had never considering proposing marriage to anyone, but I had no idea there were so many complicated parts to asking someone "will you marry me?" Perhaps the complicated parts have been added because it's such a scary question to ask.
I'm going to go all existentialist for a moment and say that "Will you marry me" is a speech act. It's a rare situation where saying something is in fact doing something. Perhaps that's why Aaron, who is a quiet type was willing to discuss this with us, his coworkers, before asking his girlfriend this so-important question. Erin wanted to make sure he had gone the traditional route and discussed this with his girlfriend's father first (he had) and then there were other points that she raised-had he planned on telling the restaurant? "They can make sure you have a table outside or a quiet table." she pointed out.
Aaron flourished under all this feminine attention. He wouldn't show us the ring (fair enough.) He had booked a trip to Paris, which he had discussed with me and Marc. We hadn't realized when he asked our advice that he hadn't told the girlfriend about it yet. It was to be a surprise engagement gift. "You do realize," Marc said with an eyebrow raised "That you have raised the bar for Erin's Boy." We all laughed.
Someone suggested presenting the ring on a dessert. "Oh no!" I said, "Then you'd get to go to MGH to have her stomach pumped." Several people nodded their heads wisely.
Someone asked Ellen how her husband had proposed to her. "Well we'd gone to see these fireworks. And he said he needed to talk to me and pulled me aside. He was sure I'd noticed the bulge in his pocket from the box with the ring in it-I hadn't."
Our boss, who had broken his hip and consequently was more likely to buzz people on the intercom than go see them hobbled over with his cane to say a few hopeful words to Aaron.
I was sure that while the young ladies of the firm were all aflutter about Aaron's impending engagement, the middle aged economist would be too hard nosed to be much affected. I was wrong. I heard her squealing like the rest of the girls when she heard the news. I went down to our main conference rooms where one of our interns was waiting to have a meeting with her and explained that she was delayed because "Aaron is proposing to his girlfriend this afternoon."
I watched the rest of the firm show up and offer their best wishes throughout the morning. The other owner, Richard, showed up and said "What's this I hear?" with a big smile on his face. "Did someone post a status update to our company's facebook page-come and see the condemned man while you can?" I asked. Richard laughed, but every time he passed our cubicles for the rest of the morning he said "tick tick tick tick."
"What a good thing she isn't meeting you in here." Janie remarked. "We'd all stare at her."
"Where are you going for lunch?" Asked Erin "We could all go there as well." Weird as it sounds, I could see this happening.
Finally it was 1 PM and Aaron was still in the office. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Get out of here before someone assigns you a project." Finally he did leave a few minutes later. He seemed all chuffed and full of sunlight. He stopped to talk to the office manager and I saw her hand him some gum before he left. Clearly we had done all we could for him.
*Names changed to protect the innocent
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Cantabridgienne's Laws
A few weeks ago I was over at my friend Ellen's house and I remarked that she seemed to be buying premium cat litter for her two cats. She looked me straight in the eyes and said "Never. Skimp. On. Cat. Litter." We laughed and then she said "In fact that's Ellen's Law number five." I had forgotten that Ellen had laws, even though she has had them as long as I have known her (although she can never remember what all of them are).
I decided it would be interesting to write Cantabridgienne's Laws. In a way they were already written, since there are several rules I try to live by-I just needed to put them down on "paper?" in HTML? I call them Laws although it would be more appropriate to take a Pastafarian view and call them "I'd prefer it if you did's."
So here are my laws, although they're more guidelines than statements-there's nothing in them about how a body in motion tends to stay in motion.
1) What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Consider this question repeatedly throughout whatever project you are working on.
2) Find useful partners. You will never work as well on your own as you will with someone else to check your work.
3) Have snacks available. Eat them *before* you are starving.
4) Grunt Step Grunt Step gets you over the top. (This one is actually one of Dad’s Laws.)
5) All questions are allowed If and Only If all answers are allowed. Alternatively, don’t ask the question if you are not okay with all possible answers. (This one is also an adaptation of one of Dad’s Laws.)
6) Wherever possible, tell the truth. Try to state your actual concerns or interests instead of making up a story that you think will “play better.” It makes things easier.
a. Try to use “I am concerned” or “I feel” paired with “does this make sense?” or “do you understand why I might feel that way?”
7) Find the rule set that is applicable. Read the documentation or the regulation or the syllabus. Do this before you start the project.
8) Save the packaging.
9) Do your homework up front. If you have done a good job of planning you can reuse your good efforts later on. This works for everything from school work to SEC audits.
10) “There is no ‘Try.’ Do or do not.” Judge yourself and others by what you or they have actually done. Do not be guilty of Mauvais Foi. (Yoda and Jean Paul Sartre).
11) If you want to make something happen-make a plan, even if your plan is to tell your friends or your calendar to remind you to think about the project again in three months.
12) When you are on stage stay in character.
13) Carry a pair of comfortable shoes.
14) Do try to see the humor in the situation. It's not funny now, but maybe it will be in a few hours/drinks. They call it the Human Comedy-not the Human Tragedy for a reason.
I decided it would be interesting to write Cantabridgienne's Laws. In a way they were already written, since there are several rules I try to live by-I just needed to put them down on "paper?" in HTML? I call them Laws although it would be more appropriate to take a Pastafarian view and call them "I'd prefer it if you did's."
So here are my laws, although they're more guidelines than statements-there's nothing in them about how a body in motion tends to stay in motion.
1) What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Consider this question repeatedly throughout whatever project you are working on.
2) Find useful partners. You will never work as well on your own as you will with someone else to check your work.
3) Have snacks available. Eat them *before* you are starving.
4) Grunt Step Grunt Step gets you over the top. (This one is actually one of Dad’s Laws.)
5) All questions are allowed If and Only If all answers are allowed. Alternatively, don’t ask the question if you are not okay with all possible answers. (This one is also an adaptation of one of Dad’s Laws.)
6) Wherever possible, tell the truth. Try to state your actual concerns or interests instead of making up a story that you think will “play better.” It makes things easier.
a. Try to use “I am concerned” or “I feel” paired with “does this make sense?” or “do you understand why I might feel that way?”
7) Find the rule set that is applicable. Read the documentation or the regulation or the syllabus. Do this before you start the project.
8) Save the packaging.
9) Do your homework up front. If you have done a good job of planning you can reuse your good efforts later on. This works for everything from school work to SEC audits.
10) “There is no ‘Try.’ Do or do not.” Judge yourself and others by what you or they have actually done. Do not be guilty of Mauvais Foi. (Yoda and Jean Paul Sartre).
11) If you want to make something happen-make a plan, even if your plan is to tell your friends or your calendar to remind you to think about the project again in three months.
12) When you are on stage stay in character.
13) Carry a pair of comfortable shoes.
14) Do try to see the humor in the situation. It's not funny now, but maybe it will be in a few hours/drinks. They call it the Human Comedy-not the Human Tragedy for a reason.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
MGT 650 and loud Music
It's a week and a half ago. I'm standing out in my back yard trying to clear my head so that I can finish writing the paper I'm working on. I'm nothing but a bunch of nerve endings at this point in time. In a few minutes I know that my teammate and co-author of this paper that's worth 40% of our grades, is going to call. And I know that when my phone* rings I am going to jump out of my skin. I listen to the loud sounds coming out of my computer. Green Day is screaming about something in there. I wonder if perhaps one of the reasons that I'm feeling so jumpy is that I've been listening to this sort of thing for the past month.
The morning after I lost my wallet I had to go deal with the RMV and my bank and credit card companies. It was already crunch-time where I work (because it was time to put out quarterly reports) but in spite of this I still had to deal with these other things ASAP. Because I knew this was all going to suck and because losing my wallet (or having it stolen) always makes me feel bad, I decided that a little psychological reinforcement was in order. I found my earphones and decided that I was going to listen to music all the way into Boston that morning and all the time I was walking to the Bank, the RMV and then to work. Think of it as the psychological equivalent of taping and wearing an ace bandage on your sprained ankle. Music was my ace bandage.
Some of you are probably thinking "Huh? What is she talking about? I listen to my iPod on the T all the time, so WTF?" I love my music, but I had very good reasons for not wanting to hear it all the time. For one thing, I like my music Loud. Listening to loud music through ear buds is bad for your hearing, so I don't do it unless I need to. It's one of those "in case of emergency break glass" options. Well, the emergency came in the form of Lost Wallet +Quarterly Reports + MGT 650.
As predicted, I did have some hearing problems. About two weeks into allowing myself to listening to loud music all the time I wasn't required to deal with other humans, I was sitting in my friend Mike's truck headed out to errands (his truck has an awesome stereo system and we planned on listening to really loud music that afternoon) I mentioned that maybe we should keep the volume down a bit because "My ears feel like they did the day after my first GBV concert. I stood in front of the speakers the whole time. The day after that concert I couldn't call my parents because listening to voices on my phone hurt my ears too much."
He replied "You sound like a teenager." Which amused me, because I didn't discover the joys of loud rock and roll until later in my life.
The crisis zone stretched to encompass the rest of the semester. Suddenly there was a presentation due and a paper as well as that giant paper we'd been working on all semester. Oh, and for fun, there was a Sunday I had to go into work before one of these papers was due. I was needing more music all the time just to keep me sane. The magic of my old favorites (the Clash, the Ramones, the Sex Pistols and the Modern Lovers) was wearing thin. I needed loud music, but it needed to be newer loud music. Then I remembered that I had always meant to check out Green Day. Afterall, when I went to Lollapoloza in 1994 (?) they were the only band I liked and I had enjoyed them when I got back to college after that event and my friends had played Dookie for me.
I got Dookie and it helped me through a paper and a half. Because this is 2010 and if you like a band, you can watch you tube videos of them, I started watching Green Day in action in breaks while paper writing. I liked what I saw. But, because I care deeply about my music cred I asked my arbiters of musical taste about whether or not it was okay to like this band. I started with my buddy Mike, who was grading papers across the table from where I sat writing a paper at Gulu Gulu Cafe. "Green Day? That's Bratty Younger Brother Music." he opined. "But you're younger than me so maybe it's okay." I asked my younger sister what she thought of Green Day and she recommended another album. I asked my friend Dan whether or not Green Day counted as Punk Rock (Dan's opinion was particularly important-not only did he introduce me to the Pixies but he has shut me down on a few occasions by saying "Not Punk Rock!") His response was "I have never willingly listened to Green Day."
So according to everyone but my younger sister, I was listening to trash. I quickly decided I didn't care. Along with my full time job (complete with difficult boss) I had tons of coursework to do, and of our three person MGT 650 team (most of the teams have four people) one member had checked out. So we were now a two person team, and we had a giant paper to write. At this point in time I could have forgiven myself for developing a love for Madonna or Lady Gaga.
But I hadn't developed a Madonna obsession. I was all about Green Day. I didn't care if I was sick of them the minute I handed my paper in-so long as I stayed sane between now and then. I chose Green Day because I like loud punk rock and as I've mentioned I'd already worn out my old favorites. More importantly, watching them on youtube performing live has been helpful or hopeful. Billy Joe is the lead singer and lead guitar player. That means he's being Joe Strummer and Mick Jones at the same time. I've watched him captivate and motivate crowds. He is competent, charismatic, a little bit scary and wears eyeliner better than I do. Although I do not want to be a rock and roll hero, I would *love* to be competent, charismatic and a bit scary**. I don't need to be this way all the time-just at game time.
And from my unfortunate point of view game time stretched out over several days as two of us struggled to do the work of four people. By the end, the loud music wasn't any help. By the final day, I had switched over to Brahms Requiem, just to calm my nerves.
In the end I admit that newer Green Day (including their new Broadway Musical) is very derivative. It bears the clear stamp of earlier American rock and roll. And while I like the way they've combined some of the elements, it's still not up to the standards of the Clash or the Beatles or even the Shins. But that doesn't matter. For starters, Green Day helped get me out of MGT 650 with most of my sanity. Futhermore, there's such a thing as taking one's musical taste too seriously. For me admitting that I like some band that's not pure rock and roll genius is a good thing (although if anyone wants to recommend some nice loud band that's as good as the Clash and the Ramones I'm all ears. I'll be needing more music next term.)
*I've changed the ring tone to Police On My Back, so it's just going to add to the cacophony
** and yes I'd also like to be able to apply eyeliner well as he does
Thursday, April 15, 2010
In which I lose my wallet but not my mind
I really try to be independent and self-sufficient. I hate having to rely on other people. I also try to know what comes next in my life. I can do anything-no matter how unpleasant it is-provided it is not a surprise. Losing my wallet on Tuesday put me out of my comfort zone in both of these preferences.
Tuesday was a full day. I was trying to register for summer classes, print out my notes for the presentation I had to give that night on the rollout of RU-486 and dealing with about five work related issues at the same time. I left work at 4:30 to be in time to meet with my team at UMB at 5:15 so that we could rehearse the presentation that we were due to give in class, which started at 6:00. When I got to UMB, I reached into my bag for my wallet to buy coffee and water and discovered that my wallet was not there. I freaked out. I was going through my bag for the third or fourth time when my teammates showed up. "How are you?" one of them asked. "I just lost my wallet." I responded. "And I'm going to have to borrow money from one of you to get home."
We went to the classroom where we normally meet and rehearse. I dumped my bag on the ground (grabbing and hiding the tampon that was part of the mix because I was with two guys.) They discovered that none of us had a USB drive to put the presentation on, so one of them (who works at UMB) went to his office to get one. The other one tried to calm me down by joking about the mess I'd made and asking for the name of my bank (so that I could call them.)
One of the things about me that these guys have not yet figured out (well how could they-they just met me in February) is that while I can freak out at high pitch, it doesn't last. Just because I'm panicking doesn't mean that I will be unable to perform in 20 minutes. This has come up twice this term. Perhaps this is something I should mention to the next team I have to work with "I panic. It's okay. I Get Over It pretty quickly." We put the presentation on the USB drive. They both asked "are you going to be okay?" Not, I realize just to be solicitous but because we get one grade on everything we do and if I was a spaz-ball during the presentation both of their grades would suffer. Well we couldn’t have that. I am a very loyal animal. It doesn’t matter that I was a bit annoyed that these guys didn’t get that I would be fine by game time, they had my loyalty and I was going to do everything I could to show them that I wouldn’t fuck up the presentation just because I had lost my wallet. This last little reminder of what we were here doing at the moment was enough to shove the Panic Monster back into the closet-not permanently but at least until after we’d given our presentation. So I told them I was fine and then to prove it I engaged in listening to them practice their parts of the presentation and helped them with their French pronunciation and biology pronunciation (“Et-tee-enn.” “Prost-a GLAN-dins” “Abortion inducing-not abortion provoking. One provokes an argument. One induces an abortion”) and smiling and nodding when what they had to say was on point.
Then it was time to leave for class. One of the guys said he’d lend me money to get home. “How much do you need? Here is 15 bucks.” The problem was I didn’t know how much I needed to get home and back to town again the next day I was however pretty sure that it was going to cost me more than 15 bucks. So I boldly told him I needed 50 bucks. I am still not sure if that was okay. But having someone say that they would lend me 50 bucks allowed me to know that I would have enough cash to get home, get into town and buy myself a bagel the next morning as well as whatever other expenses I might encounter before getting to the bank and somehow convincing them to allow me to cash a check even though I had no ID. It helped me keep the panic monster away. If one of these guys had asked me for a loan of $50 because they had lost their wallet, I would have coughed it up-no problem. (Although if it happened this week I’d have had to write them a check.) So maybe its not that socially unacceptable. I don’t know.
We got to class. We discovered that we had to present first. Watching our presentation, you never would have known that I’d lost my wallet an hour ago.
The history of RU-486 is, for better or for worse, all about politics. We had to present an analysis of the case from a Strategic Design perspective. Normally, Strategic Design is my favorite perspective because it’s the one that actually makes logical sense. Strategic Design is all about how a company (or in this case, the company’s suppliers, regulators, customers and competitors) is organized. Who reports to who and why? SD allows one to ask how things would function if humans were logical. It’s the equivalent of a frictionless vacuum (if you’re thinking of physics) and it is the least useful way of analyzing the rollout of RU-486 in France in 1989. I had pointed this out to one of my teammates early on in the game and he responded by saying that that was too bad. Some other team got the political angle.
In spite of the fact that this was possibly the least useful perspective from which to analyze the case, we had a solid presentation. We had spent seven hours working through it on Saturday and even if we found pronouncing some of the words difficult (Even I had difficulty with the name of the German company involved) we knew what we had to say and we had lovely PowerPoint slides and a nice handout to help drive home our point. I was looking forward to giving this presentation because I knew how solid our work was. This meant that the Panic Monster had nothing to say about anything once the professor called our team to take the floor. We did a good job. We smiled at each other when we made nice points or pronounced some jaw-breaking word correctly. I fielded a sticky question with confidence. And then it was time for us to sit down and watch the rest of the shows.
While the other teams gave their presentations I ate dinner (Odwalla bar) fed one teammate another Odwalla bar and gave both of them gum to chew. I actually like doing this because it is a nice non-verbal (and therefore not rude) way for us to communicate and share during other people’s presentations. I made several lists of things that I needed to replace (first priority list-bank card, State ID and RFID card to get into work. Second Priority list BJs card, UMB ID and health insurance card). This also helped keep the Panic Monster at bay.
We sat through all of the presentations. One of my teammates had to leave at class break. The professor gave us back the paper we had written a few weeks ago. We got a good grade on the paper, but we had some questions to ask. I gave us time to ask these questions even though I knew this meant that I would miss my train (realistically, it had been such a horrible day that I knew that I was missing the 9:30 train sometime around 7:30. Just cuz.) When we lurched out of the classroom and towards the shuttle to the T, my teammate asked “aren’t you afraid of missing your train?” I responded, “It’s okay. I know I missed my train, but after losing my wallet a missed train is not that big of a deal.” Which was true at that point, although getting an A/A- on a paper I knew Was Not Our Best Work after giving a good presentation certainly sweetened the deal a bit.
The next day I called the office manager and left her a message saying that I’d be late because I had lost my wallet and I needed to visit the bank, talk to the MBTA transit police etc. I didn’t freak out about any of this even though there were about 10 things marked “Urgent” that I needed to deal with at work. I had lost my wallet. This required that I take certain steps, which were just as urgent as the work that needed to be done. Furthermore, I knew that I had lost my wallet not because I was a useless spaz who shouldn’t be allowed off the leash but because I was juggling chainsaws. I was trying to register for classes while fixing the computer of the lady who writes our quarterly letter, convincing my boss not to take my server-room key to the locksmith (because he’d misplaced his and I wasn’t sure if I’d be together enough to demand it back from him and I need that key-he doesn’t) setting up accountants on our online vault so that they could get tax information (this all happened on April 13th) getting my notes and our handouts for this evening’s presentation printed and doing about 12 other things. The fact that I put my wallet in my pocket and it fell out after I swiped my T pass at Back Bay station was not my fault. I have been losing my wallet or having it stolen from me regularly since I was 14. But this was the first time I had dealt with everything involved so calmly.
I place this firmly on my involvement with UMB’s MBA program. Doing good work and getting good grades and pat-pats from my teammates has increased my self-confidence. Increasing my self-confidence and giving the Panic Monster reasons to go away (I can’t deal with you right now-I’ve got a presentation to give) are both good things. Yes it sucks that I lost my wallet. I am, for the record, still pissed about it. But I can deal with it because there are other things in my life that don’t suck and these things allowed me to calmly deal with the MBTA police, the credit card companies, my boss and the RMV. And now if you’ll excuse me I have two papers to write.
Tuesday was a full day. I was trying to register for summer classes, print out my notes for the presentation I had to give that night on the rollout of RU-486 and dealing with about five work related issues at the same time. I left work at 4:30 to be in time to meet with my team at UMB at 5:15 so that we could rehearse the presentation that we were due to give in class, which started at 6:00. When I got to UMB, I reached into my bag for my wallet to buy coffee and water and discovered that my wallet was not there. I freaked out. I was going through my bag for the third or fourth time when my teammates showed up. "How are you?" one of them asked. "I just lost my wallet." I responded. "And I'm going to have to borrow money from one of you to get home."
We went to the classroom where we normally meet and rehearse. I dumped my bag on the ground (grabbing and hiding the tampon that was part of the mix because I was with two guys.) They discovered that none of us had a USB drive to put the presentation on, so one of them (who works at UMB) went to his office to get one. The other one tried to calm me down by joking about the mess I'd made and asking for the name of my bank (so that I could call them.)
One of the things about me that these guys have not yet figured out (well how could they-they just met me in February) is that while I can freak out at high pitch, it doesn't last. Just because I'm panicking doesn't mean that I will be unable to perform in 20 minutes. This has come up twice this term. Perhaps this is something I should mention to the next team I have to work with "I panic. It's okay. I Get Over It pretty quickly." We put the presentation on the USB drive. They both asked "are you going to be okay?" Not, I realize just to be solicitous but because we get one grade on everything we do and if I was a spaz-ball during the presentation both of their grades would suffer. Well we couldn’t have that. I am a very loyal animal. It doesn’t matter that I was a bit annoyed that these guys didn’t get that I would be fine by game time, they had my loyalty and I was going to do everything I could to show them that I wouldn’t fuck up the presentation just because I had lost my wallet. This last little reminder of what we were here doing at the moment was enough to shove the Panic Monster back into the closet-not permanently but at least until after we’d given our presentation. So I told them I was fine and then to prove it I engaged in listening to them practice their parts of the presentation and helped them with their French pronunciation and biology pronunciation (“Et-tee-enn.” “Prost-a GLAN-dins” “Abortion inducing-not abortion provoking. One provokes an argument. One induces an abortion”) and smiling and nodding when what they had to say was on point.
Then it was time to leave for class. One of the guys said he’d lend me money to get home. “How much do you need? Here is 15 bucks.” The problem was I didn’t know how much I needed to get home and back to town again the next day I was however pretty sure that it was going to cost me more than 15 bucks. So I boldly told him I needed 50 bucks. I am still not sure if that was okay. But having someone say that they would lend me 50 bucks allowed me to know that I would have enough cash to get home, get into town and buy myself a bagel the next morning as well as whatever other expenses I might encounter before getting to the bank and somehow convincing them to allow me to cash a check even though I had no ID. It helped me keep the panic monster away. If one of these guys had asked me for a loan of $50 because they had lost their wallet, I would have coughed it up-no problem. (Although if it happened this week I’d have had to write them a check.) So maybe its not that socially unacceptable. I don’t know.
We got to class. We discovered that we had to present first. Watching our presentation, you never would have known that I’d lost my wallet an hour ago.
The history of RU-486 is, for better or for worse, all about politics. We had to present an analysis of the case from a Strategic Design perspective. Normally, Strategic Design is my favorite perspective because it’s the one that actually makes logical sense. Strategic Design is all about how a company (or in this case, the company’s suppliers, regulators, customers and competitors) is organized. Who reports to who and why? SD allows one to ask how things would function if humans were logical. It’s the equivalent of a frictionless vacuum (if you’re thinking of physics) and it is the least useful way of analyzing the rollout of RU-486 in France in 1989. I had pointed this out to one of my teammates early on in the game and he responded by saying that that was too bad. Some other team got the political angle.
In spite of the fact that this was possibly the least useful perspective from which to analyze the case, we had a solid presentation. We had spent seven hours working through it on Saturday and even if we found pronouncing some of the words difficult (Even I had difficulty with the name of the German company involved) we knew what we had to say and we had lovely PowerPoint slides and a nice handout to help drive home our point. I was looking forward to giving this presentation because I knew how solid our work was. This meant that the Panic Monster had nothing to say about anything once the professor called our team to take the floor. We did a good job. We smiled at each other when we made nice points or pronounced some jaw-breaking word correctly. I fielded a sticky question with confidence. And then it was time for us to sit down and watch the rest of the shows.
While the other teams gave their presentations I ate dinner (Odwalla bar) fed one teammate another Odwalla bar and gave both of them gum to chew. I actually like doing this because it is a nice non-verbal (and therefore not rude) way for us to communicate and share during other people’s presentations. I made several lists of things that I needed to replace (first priority list-bank card, State ID and RFID card to get into work. Second Priority list BJs card, UMB ID and health insurance card). This also helped keep the Panic Monster at bay.
We sat through all of the presentations. One of my teammates had to leave at class break. The professor gave us back the paper we had written a few weeks ago. We got a good grade on the paper, but we had some questions to ask. I gave us time to ask these questions even though I knew this meant that I would miss my train (realistically, it had been such a horrible day that I knew that I was missing the 9:30 train sometime around 7:30. Just cuz.) When we lurched out of the classroom and towards the shuttle to the T, my teammate asked “aren’t you afraid of missing your train?” I responded, “It’s okay. I know I missed my train, but after losing my wallet a missed train is not that big of a deal.” Which was true at that point, although getting an A/A- on a paper I knew Was Not Our Best Work after giving a good presentation certainly sweetened the deal a bit.
The next day I called the office manager and left her a message saying that I’d be late because I had lost my wallet and I needed to visit the bank, talk to the MBTA transit police etc. I didn’t freak out about any of this even though there were about 10 things marked “Urgent” that I needed to deal with at work. I had lost my wallet. This required that I take certain steps, which were just as urgent as the work that needed to be done. Furthermore, I knew that I had lost my wallet not because I was a useless spaz who shouldn’t be allowed off the leash but because I was juggling chainsaws. I was trying to register for classes while fixing the computer of the lady who writes our quarterly letter, convincing my boss not to take my server-room key to the locksmith (because he’d misplaced his and I wasn’t sure if I’d be together enough to demand it back from him and I need that key-he doesn’t) setting up accountants on our online vault so that they could get tax information (this all happened on April 13th) getting my notes and our handouts for this evening’s presentation printed and doing about 12 other things. The fact that I put my wallet in my pocket and it fell out after I swiped my T pass at Back Bay station was not my fault. I have been losing my wallet or having it stolen from me regularly since I was 14. But this was the first time I had dealt with everything involved so calmly.
I place this firmly on my involvement with UMB’s MBA program. Doing good work and getting good grades and pat-pats from my teammates has increased my self-confidence. Increasing my self-confidence and giving the Panic Monster reasons to go away (I can’t deal with you right now-I’ve got a presentation to give) are both good things. Yes it sucks that I lost my wallet. I am, for the record, still pissed about it. But I can deal with it because there are other things in my life that don’t suck and these things allowed me to calmly deal with the MBTA police, the credit card companies, my boss and the RMV. And now if you’ll excuse me I have two papers to write.
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