Cliff's Notes on Taco's Day:
6:00a - Get up, start getting ready, start pouring coffee down gullet.
7:00a - Drive to work.
7:45a - Get to work.
10:00a - Guy asks for help with some Java work he's doing. Start trying to untangle his mess.
11:00a - 30 minute meeting w/ guys in London developing a piece of the product for us.
1:15p - "30 minute" meeting ends. Meeting was very productive, though. Possibly the most useful meeting I've ever had.
1:30p - Go downstairs to deli for a quick bite. Sammich was ok but not for $7.
4:00p - Hand teammate untangled mess. Explain what I did. Attempt to correct his tendency to abandon standard, mature APIs that don't immediately work in favor of self-rolled code (that fails in boundary cases). Probably won't stick. Hold off on screaming fit over utter lack of knowledge of Java standard practices for a rainy day. Start working on incorporating latest info into my portion of our project.
4:15 - Realize dude has wiped out my test tables. Start recreating test data. Keep names of new test tables secret. Promise to invoke hoodoo curses at next opportunity. Reluctantly admit I should have predicted we'd step on each other's data. Still plan on hoodoo. Google price of sacrificial goats.
4:30p - Boss asks if I can have my portion of the project (including latest info & changes) ready to hand off to architect tomorrow. Tell him I'll do my best, but spent the bulk of the day force feeding best practices to a contractor. Offer to stay late to get it done, ask what time tomorrow it's needed to avoid delay. Boss says don't stay late, if it won't make it, just let us know asap. Refuse to delay release on my first project.
5:30p - Leave office to meet family for dinner. Find every moron on road between office and restaurant. Food is delicious. Fun evening. Wish father-in-law safe trip back home.
7:30p - Back at office. Dude I Secretly Suspect Is a Gay British Time Traveler From the 19th Century is still there. Make note to find out his name. Set coffee machine on high test. Begin swilling.
7:31p - Wonder if Gay British is redundant.
8:00p - First of many trips to bathroom in accordance with my elaborate coffee tag & release program. Find $8 on floor outside a conference room. Wonder if it belongs to gay British time traveler. Look for him to ask, but fail to find him. Reason that if it's his money, he'll just go back in time and pick it up before I find it. Pocket it.
8:30p - Trade text messages, PMs with Blue. Plot on folks 'n' rascals. Rack up impressive list of text messages. Give up and call. Chat about books, her recovery, and more plottin'. Okay, maybe not the plottin'. But she's got a PM about the plottin'. Did I mention plottin'? Plottin'.
11:00p - Finish vast majority of work due by tomorrow. Exhausted. Leave, grabbing one last mug of high octane coffee for the road.
11:10p - Radio station plays 1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer. Almost makes it worth working late. Holler along. Badly. Mostly mumbling until the title line. Don't care. Holler louder.
11:20p - Pull in driveway. Get mail. Come inside. Dog is waiting on me at the door, hops up to get pet. Dog is awesome.
11:30 - Sit down with slice of cold pizza, can of beer. Start writing this.
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4 comments:
Awesome Taco is awesome. I demand simultaneously more posts like this and for myself to steal the format. Yes I can make demands of myself. I have that power.
I don't use cliff's notes. Where's the novel?
Harum, harum.
"Call me Taco. Some days ago -- never mind how long precisely -- having little or no money in my wallet, and nothing particular to interest me in bed, I thought I would sit about a little and see the corporate part of the world. It is a way I have of accumulating the spleen and overpressurizing the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing amiable about the mouth; whenever it is a bright, cheery May in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before candy warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every circus parade I meet; and especially whenever my hypers get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically square dancing with random passers-by -- then, I account it high time to get to the office as soon as I can. This is my substitute for whiskey and valium. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the desk. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the office with me..."
I can't wait to see how Queequeg fits into all this...
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