united we stand, dammit

It has been uncharacteristically rainy in my neck of the woods. Like mudslide and floods rainy. But there's one segment of the population who's hardier than the rest of us - they scoff in the face of a little squall. Yes, the smokers!

They flee in packs from the draconian Californian anti-smoking laws (as one upstanding colleague from the American South once said, civilized men *chew* tobacco), and huddle outside for mutual protection. Rain or shine, this virtual United Nations (my random sampling revealed that most are coworkers visiting from Europe or Asia) stoically defend their rights and puff away. The rain only seems to strengthen their solidarity and resolve. Go hug your trees, Californians, we shall overcome! Their baleful glances flashed from the hazy canopy underneath their umbrellas make me self-conscious and somewhat ashamed. A short time ago, I too was a smoking apartheidist. Smokers deserve to be the modern-day lepers, I thought! But my trips abroad changed my worldview. Outside the US, as a matter of fact, non-smokers are the outcasts. Over there, I was the one huddled outside in the drizzling rain. Go take your filthy non-smoking ways outside this establishment! We don't want our kids to be exposed to your non-smoke!

So tomorrow, my brothers of the tarred lung, I shall join your cause! I don't smoke, but I will breathe deep of the SUV exhaust permeating our green-conscious Californian parking lot, and we shall embrace, sing Kum-baya, and hack up phlegm together!.

How Wars Start

From an IM exchange with a co-worker:

KM: "gotcha -- will contact vendor to f/u dollar transaction"

::bing::

me" "cool -- thanks for the f/u as always"

::bing::

A very innocuous exchange. But a month ago, I didn't know that the shorthand f/u stood for "Follow Up," and had assumed that it stood for something...different.

Fortune Cookie

I signed up to get random quotes emailed to me. Most of the time my overly aggressive spam filter puts these in the delete bin along with notes from other dubious sources like say, from my mother. Every now and then, one slips through the vigilant digital sentries.

I consider these lucky few to be kind of an electronic Magic-8 Ball or a virtual fortune cookie.

Yesterday, I got this:

--------

"No one travelling on a business trip would be missed if he failed to arrive. "

Thorstein Veblen
US economist & social philosopher (1857 - 1929)

--------

Hmm. Guess I should count my blessings that I didn't go with my boss(es) last week on the Moscow-Beijing trip. I was bummed that I missed out on the $300, 5 day express locomotive trip between the two cities. Especially since they upgraded to a much cleaner-burning coal engine last season.

West Coast Choppers..Cares

Denver International Airport, catching a SooperShuttle to the office. A SooperShuttle, by the way, is a subsidiary of Jimbo's Driving School ("I'm not a licensed driver, but I play one on TV") and is a very economical way to get from the airport to many popular destinations. Like into another car's bumper or the local hospital, whatever suits your fancy.

It's about a 45 minute drive from DIA to the meeting venue, so i just sat back and took in the sights. The looming Rocky mountain panorama was impressive, but there really was nothing distinctive nor compelling about the immediate landscape -- strip malls and cinderblock office buildings galore. I guess it didn't help that this huge slab of man was blocking my view. This guy was straight outta the show American Choppers; buzz cut, square diamond studs, and dark, dark shades. Then I saw the tattoo. I strained to make out the Japanese characters -- hard to get a clear view as his bulldog-like neck rolls distorted the words. I think it may have spelled out "Kichi-gai," which means "Crazy." However, that tattooist seemed to have made a small error on the second character. Instead of "Kichi-gai" the word read "Kizu-kai," which is more about caring for one's guests and hospitality. I didn't have the courage to ask.

But as I write this, I'm thinking, perhaps I have been too quick to judge. Maybe, just maybe, Caring and Hospitality is what bikers are about these days. Just as New York City changed its slogan from "Up Yours" to "Your City," who's to say that scary biker types aren't doing a PR makeover?

Will Work for Food

We had a going away lunch for two folks on my team. It was at an Italian joint, so it was almost mandatory that someone order a pizza as an appetizer. I scarfed through my portion, and left a graveyard of crusts piled three deep. I dunno why I do that. After all, I usually end up eating the crusts too at some point.

Upon introspection, I realized that this neurosis stems from my penniless college days. I would spend many a weeknight hovering around my rich friends' rooms and peppering them with "Ya gonna finish that crust? Huh are ya? Are ya?" until they gave in and threw me a bone. Deep in my psyche, I had vowed that one, day it would be *I* who would be dispensing crusts. It is *I* who would be savoring the marrow of mozzarella and basil -- I would then grant the rest to the financially challenged around me! So to me, the fact that I don't have to eat my crusts is a manifestation of a dream, many years in the making. I have arrived. I am Big Time.

Great (eye)Balls of Fire

Periodic eye exam time. Got Lasik a little over a year ago, and it was time for my checkup. Incidentally, if you haven't had this done, let me tell you that it is a fairly inncoulous procedure and no more threatening than accidentally shaving one's eyeball in the morning.

At any rate, Intern Bob came in to do some preliminary tests on my eye before the Doc came around to my examination room. Intern Bob (only using his first name, and not the full Bob Goodward name as to protect his identity) was clearly nervous.

me: "Hi there Bob"

Bob: (glancing down at my file) "um, hello...Hadoo"

me: "Hideo. Pronounced He-day-oh. No biggie, people screw it up all the time."

Bob: "oh sorry! Let me see, you're here for Lasik surgery. Let me explain the procedure, Hadoo..."

me: "It's He-day-oh. And I had that last year. This is just my annual checkup"

Bob: "..right. Did you remember to take your contacts out?"

me: "NO! Look, I don't need surgery!"

Bob: (stunned silence, then starts flipping madly through my file) "...wha? Yes. Yes, of course....only a checkup."

We proceed to the next room where all the test equipment is located. Intern Bob's nerves were in full flare now. His forehead had a shiny sheen of sweat and his fingers seemed to tremble. Which of course, is comforting when that person is jiggery-pokering around in one's eye orbits. All said and done, the tests themselves went off without a hitch.

Or so I thought.

The first thing the Doc said upon reading Intern Bob's scribbled notes was, "Hideo, are you sure you're feeling all right? Any pain? Anything odd...like blood spurting in random intervals from your sockets?" Turns out that Intern Bob aimed a bit too high with the eye pressure machine and took readings of my forehead...

Words of Wisdom

Annoying forms and templates are less annoying if you're the one to define and impose that annoyance on others.

Inspector, we have a motive

Not enuf time to eat a lunch today. I expected as much, so I had the foresight to pack a lunch. Nothing special really, just one of those canned soup deals where you open up in a container, heat up, and you're good to go. As long as you don't accidentally pick up the Alpo dog food can, you're golden. Although the canned Cattle Drive Chili with Beans is awfully hard to tell the diff just by looking at the label , or even by opening the can for that matter .

At any rate, there I was , 12:45pm. I'm in the breakroom, can of soup in hand and plastic container to heat it up in. But. I forgot to bring a damned can opener. And there's none in the breakroom. Not on the fourth, not on the third, not on the second. I will not eat them Sam I am. Desperate, I jammed a metal scissor into the top of the can. At first, only a dent. Then eventually, a small puncture. I got the metal hole a bit wider, to maybe the width of a pencil. End result was I got all the watery crud in the Ziplok EZheat container, but all the meat and veggies were still stuck in the can. I noticed that my technique added some extra minerals to the mix -- there were metal scrapings, either from the can or my cheap industrial scissors ($2.95 at OfficeMax) floating on top...

It was already almost 1pm and time for my next meeting; no time to even raid the candy machine.

So for all those in my afternoon meetings, sorry! It wasn't you or your comments that I was ranting at, it was at the Fates themselves!! But you happen to be easier to reach.

Deep Thoughts at 4 in the morning

New species or French hoax.

You decide:

(and no, I can't fall back to sleep. Thanks for asking)

Why I Love Travel: Pt Two

Dialogue with stony-faced receptionist, Johan, of the Holiday Inn Ijmuiden Seaport Beach.

me: "pardon me but may I have an English room service menu?"
Johan (annoyed at this egregious intrusion on his time): "The menus are written in both Dutch and English"
me: "no they're not"
Johan: "Oh yes they are"
me: "hmm..let me check again. Let's see...nope. Can't read it. Therefore not English."
Johan: (huffs thru his nose disdainfully that I cannot make out the menu items, then gives me the English one from behind his desk) "so you are right"

one hour later...

me: "may I borrow a power adapter for my US plugs?"
Johan: (reaches behind counter and dumps a box of cords and miscellaneous adapters and plugs in front on him.) "here"
me: "um...which one?"
Johan: "I don't know. Try some."
me: (grabbing a handful) "okay"

15 minutes later...

me: "none of these fit your power sockets."
Johan: "yes, that's correct"
me:" why on earth do you keep them then?"
Johan" "someone may need one"
me: "where can I get one to power my laptop???"
Johan: "I don't know. Good day."

5am, seat 30A

On my way to Amsterdam. I've been avoiding long road trips like the plague, but this one caught up to me. It's not the destination, as these trips are usually intense and productive. It's simply because I always seem to pick up a cold on the airplane.

This time, however, I am prepared. I already have bronchitis - my germs will eat the common cold bug for lunch! Bring it on! Apologies in advance to those unfortunate enuf to share a row with me though.

Reminds me of the most unpleasant ad hoc travel companion I ever had. A couple of years ago, I was on a layover in Dallas. I sat next to a big Texan guy munching on a Valu-pak extra-large bag of peanuts. Upon settling down, putting my trays in the upright position and stowing my carry-ons under the seat in front of me, the gentleman drawls,"Ever notice how these give ya gas?"

Conference Call Confessions

Hibernation

This morning, I was griping about the weather in San Jose dipping down to the low 40s ( 7 degrees Celcius). After an incredulous pause, I was informed that in his neck of the woods, it rarely gets *up* to that temperature. In his mountain city of Denver, it got down to -15 degrees (-26 C) last week. If high school science class memory serves, that is roughly the temperature at which fire freezes. And the snow! Every now and then I gotta get a reminder why we moved from NY -- that snow and winter is so much better when seen on a postcard as opposed to appearing in one's driveway.

Simplicity Rules!

I remember a couple of years ago, we'd actually use things like "words" and "sentences" to communicate with colleagues in the company. Today, we've dispensed with such primitive tools and have come to rely exclusively on PowerPoint picture slides to get our points across. No one reads Word or Excel anymore -- those are so 2003! PowerPoint rules every bit of our lives -- in fact, my son's kindergarten teacher sent progress reports via the .ppt extention.

It's most prevalent at work, however. No more, "Good Morning, Bill" as we pass in the halls. Now we just flash a slide of a sunrise casting its rays across a bucolic spring landscape. So much more pleasant! So much more conveyed!

But I sense the winds of change are a'blowing again. Even this talk-via-slides culture is too complex and can benefit from rationalization. Thankfully, the wizards in Redmond are hard at work for the next upgrade to the Microsoft Office Suite -- Microsoft HandPuppet 2006!

And Don't Slouch When I'm Talking to You

New fangled technology. Today, the company passed out a bunch of little webcams as a test of personal-level video conferencing. So the idea is, if I pick up the phone and the coworker on the other side has the same setup, a popup of the person's picture instantly pops up on my screen. And the picture quality is like watching a movie; super sharp and real time. Pretty neat. It also supports multi-user video conferencing. I haven't used it yet, but I imagine it'll look like this.

Inevitably the initial Christmas new-toy feel wore off. The little globular webcam perched on my monitor now seems to be LOOKING at me constantly. Am I working on that budget excel, or am I really checking sports scores? The Webcam knows. Am I ignoring that phone call and pretending to be away so I can eat my sandwich? The Webcam knows. And its blinky green LED expresses its disapproval.

I suspect that the little bugger will send a silent scream for help were I to move it from atop my monitor to a more convenient locale -- the back of my third desk drawer where the empty CD cases, dried-out ballpoint pens, leftover plastic forks and packs of ketchup are haphazardly stored. But it is too late. Even if the compliance gremlins come knocking to check up on the little web-Snitch, I have an almost indistinguishable copy to take its place on the monitor!

Good to see ya

Pretty cool how this thing can show where folks are coming from! Also pretty spooky that clicking on the image allows me to track down to where my visitors park their cars in the morning. Hey, you in Delhi, you forgot to lock your door. There, much better. You're welcome.

Trim Away

One of the more fascinating aspects of my job involves reviewing and providing feedback on marketing material prior to it being sent out in postcards that get thrown away or via emails that get deleted. I must've done a thousand of these in the past year, but rarely do I get comments on my feedback. Typically, I get a "thanks for the notes. We'll make sure that we take these into account" email, but never anything specific. I started to suspect that no one reads these things. As annoying as that would be, it would also be a relief -- in the future, I could just sit on these requests, reply back with a Looks Good, and be secure in the knowledge that no one would have read 'em anyway. But I needed proof before I could act!

About a week ago, I reviewed a stack of material and made my usual comments. But as part of my commentary, I put in a line that read,"Photo of man on his laptop needs to have excessive nose hair photoshopped out." I had forgotten all about that until today. Sometime after lunch, my instant messenger came to life with a message from my marketing communications colleague: Great catch! she wrote. So which nostril are we talking? After writing back something incoherent about how excessive nose hair has been linked with fatty foods and partaking of too much grain alcohol, I sheepishly logged off. My faith in the system is renewed! Someone does read these things!

Denial and Acceptance

I have a secret that I've been harbouring. Others have been looked down upon or even ostracized because of this weakness; in fact, I often joined in with the mob, hoping that it would deflect suspicion from me. But it never felt right. I always felt guilty for not being able to be like all the other folks out there. I think it's time I admitted it. I...I love 80's music!!!

Back in college, I'd listen to Classic Rock from the 70s, which was considered cool. Sure, I dug Led Zeppelin, Steely Dan, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Derek and the Dominoes and CCR, but they never really *meant* anything to me. After all, hearing those tunes didn't hearken me back to a younger, more innocent age. I suppose it could have, if I tried hard enough. But that would have harkened me back to a really young and innocent age -- heavy diapers and all-day naps. So I stashed 80's mixes in my sock drawer. After waking up at the crack of noon, I would secretly pop in the contraband cassette tapes in my wobbly walkman, and go for a run.

Fast forward to present. Now that 20 years have gone by, I think I can confidently load up those same 80's tunes on my iPod. It is, after all, Classic Rock now, no? Granted, I still feel the need to wear a cloak of conformity. You have to dig way deep in my play list of modern U2, Death Cab for Cutie, and Maroon 5 to find the Sarah McLachlan, Journey, and Cars songs. One day, though, I'm gonna proudly wear my Def Leppard shirt to work on casual Friday. Torn off sleeves and Top Gun Ray-Ban glasses and all!

It Depends

ow. ow. ow. mornin' John. ow. ow. ow. Hey Bob, didya get my mail? ow. ow. ow.

It is now 72 hours after my Sunday mechanical malfunction. I was running in a half marathon in San Francisco. Beautiful day, did some stretching, felt great. Then right past mile 7, my right foot sorta just started feeling numb. I thought I could just tough it out for the rest of the distance, but the numb turned into an ache, the ache into a obscenity-spewing roadside stop. Alas, my race ended far short of the 13.1 miles required to finish.

The thing is, I think I injured myself. It still hurts to walk. Worst part is, the painful jolts of electricity I feel whenever I push off on my right foot is causing me to walk funny. How so? Well, picture a two-year old that has had experienced an...accident. See how he waddles? That's me (Hey buddy, you obviously need to use the restroom more than me -- go right on ahead).

At any rate, I'm going to get this thing X-rayed on Friday. Hope I didn't break anything.

The Day After XL

So the Super Bowl has come and gone. I was totally not into the game this year as I have zero affinity for either team -- I'd have to dig way deep into the Seven Degrees of Separation game to see if I even know anybody from Pittsburgh, or has actually been a Seattle fan for longer than say, this year.

Gotta tell you though; the ads this year were inspired.

The FedEx one made me laugh out loud initially, but ended up gnawing away at my psyche for the rest of the evening.

FedEx Commercial:

Caveman: But..but FedEx hasn't been invented yet!
Boss Caveman: Not my problem
Caveman: (walks outside, gets stomped by dinosaur)

Juxtapose that for a moment, with some scenes from next week's exciting episode of HideoWork:

Cubeman: But..but I don't have budget
Boss Corporate: Not my problem
Cubeman: (walks onto presenter dais, gets stomped by salespeople)

Maybe I should try harder to identify with one of those BudLight ads instead.