Anger, pain and emptiness - Firings at work

Before you go on, consider this a warning. This isn't exactly a
politically correct piece. Those of you who know me probably know me
to be a blunt (read that as tactless) person. Well, this is me when
I'm not even TRYING to be tactful or politically correct.

What happened today (13 June 02) sucked. It's one of the worst things
that have ever happened in my professional life. You probably know
that I got along very well with all the 3 guys, especially Patrick
and Bruce. Well, today, I didn't just lose three coworkers. I lost
three friends.

I left work rather late today, around 7pm. By force of habit, I
wandered over to the center aisle just to see if anyone was still
hanging around.

Then it hit me. Three cubes. Three cubes in various states of being
cleared out. Three cubes that used to house three friends. Three
friends that I wouldn't get the pleasure of working with anymore.
Most times, Pat would be at his desk at 7pm. He'd have this cool new
toy he just bought off the net. Or perhaps another box of cartridges.
Instead, now there's a dumpster in Pat's cube. It's full of all the
cardboard boxes that Pat always left lying around his cube. Pat's
books are stacked neatly on his desk, probably the first time I'd
ever use the word "neat" to describe anything about his
cube. His red blanket, you know the one he liked to wear around the
office, was lying neatly folded on his green chair. No smiling face.
No barely organized chaos of books and papers and stuff.

I look across to Bruce's cube. The first thing that hits me is that
Jet Li is missing. Bruce's cube is also mainly empty. There's the
laptop in the docking bay. There's a bunch of books. Looks like
nobody has started clearing out his cube yet.

I go over to Rick's cube and peer in. His shelves are painfully
empty. No toys line the shelves. No bike helmet. Several cardboard
boxes that used to hold his toys lie on the floor.
Right about then, it starts getting too painful for me. I fall onto
the couch. The couch where I used to kick back and chat with those
guys. I can feel tears coming on. Not really good form to be seen
crying in the office, so I get up to leave when something catches my
eye.

I feel very very bitter when I throw away the plastic name plates
that used to hang at their cube doorways. Those nameplates don't
belong on the wall. After all, Bruce, Pat and Rick don't sit there
anymore.

OK, so that's my evening. How do I feel now?

I think this is all very fucked up. I can see why Bruce/Pat/Rick
played airsoft in the vicinity of the Rational compound. I can see
why Beth/Dale/HR/whoever would feel compelled to fire them. I can see
why Bruce/Pat/Rick would be pissed as all hell. And especially Pat,
whom I think took it the hardest of the 3. Pat was always someone who
put his heart into what he believed in. And whether or not you agreed
with Pat's opinions, you have to agree that he busted his ass for the
team. He loved working for the team, and so he gave his all every day
at work. He didn't like the way things were being run at work, but
that never stopped him from trying to help the team.

What does the future hold?

You might want to agree with Bruce/Pat/Rick that this is the
company's loss. Or you could think that a big company would hardly
notice the loss of 3 peons. Whatever. The fact is that there are 13
people left holding the fort here. This is one helluva shitty time to
be a member of this team.

I'm not our boss. I can't show you the silver lining of this whole
mess. But I can say that if we don't pull through this together,
there will be no team left to speak of. So here's what I'm asking.

Be there for each other. This incident has hit all of us, some harder
than others. Be ready to offer a listening ear if your teammate needs
one. Take a moment to take a walk with a friend. Morale is lower than
it has ever been. If we don't pull together as a team, there's not
gonna be any team left to pull together.

Focus on the task at hand. The tier 1s have shifts to handle, cases
to work etc. The tier 2s have escalations to work, people to mentor
etc. But ALL OF US have one common goal: we can't let this team sink.
In the eyes of upper management, we are a bunch of numbers (SRs
handled, number of solutions approved, first day closure blah blah
blah). If we don't get the numbers, we don't have a team. That's the
crude simple truth.

OK, enough of my preaching. It's 2am, and I really should be getting
to bed.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading this, now get back
to work. :)

Bruce, Patrick, Rick, this one's for you.

Anniversary of a Broken Heart -- An Update

It's been a year since Juli and I broke up.

Over the last year, I think my heart has healed quite a bit. It
doesn't hurt (as much) when I think about her. I don't cry at the
thought of what could have been.

But the pain still lingers like an old war wound that just won't go
away. The scars are still there. The scars still itch a little every
now and then. It's probably one of those things that you never quite
outgrow.

I suppose that's part of growing up and moving on.

I talked to Juli last night for more than 2 hours. It was like a
glass of fine wine. It's smooth and comfortable. Sweet. But also a
sharp bitter acidic taste.

It was painful at first, but as the conversation grew longer, I
started feeling more comfortable. It felt like I was talking to an
old friend. The chummy feeling that your friend knows you inside out,
a friend who knows all your bad points, so there's really nothing to
hide. There's no posing and posturing. You're just you, stripped bare
of all niceness.

A couple of parts in the conversation were very painful for me. The
part where I told her I already bought the ring for her. The part
where I told her that I should have been less demanding of her.

Whatever... That's past. That part of my life is over. The girl I
loved no longer exists. She's no longer the person she was one year
ago. Heck, neither am I.

Time to bury the past and embrace the future.

A bad experience

I had dinner at Mi Piace on Saturday night. Mi Piace is a busy italian
place in Pasadena old town, Los Angeles.

The adventure starts off with them not accepting reservations for
parties of less than 4. That leaves me and my dinner date pretty much
out of luck. We decide to turn up at 8pm and see what happens.

We're told that it'll be a 30 minute wait. So we wait. Hmm....
there's nowhere to sit. Everyone's just lounging around, waiting for
a table. It's crowded, and uncomfortable. My shoes weren't made for
standing around.

Finally, after 45 minutes of sole killing waiting, we finally get a
table. Our server whisks us to a small little table set in the corner
of the restaurant.

We sit. We look around.

There's a sea of people lounging around waiting for their table.
They're crammed all around my table. It really doesn't help any that
my table is more than a little low, so their butt is at table-level.
It doesn't sound like much until you experience trying to eat with
someone's butt in your face.

To be fair, the food was very nice. However, I feel that the overall
experience was really marred by bad seating and a long waiting period
which was made more uncomfortable by not having a proper waiting area.

Power and the right to wield it

Two sides of the same coin, when it comes to the question of wielding
power:
1. Can you do it?
2. Should you do it?

While they are not mutually exclusive, they're not always inclusive
either. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.
Just because you should do something doesn't mean you can.

One is a question of ability.

Can you do it? Are you physically capable of performing a feat? Are
you able to perform that action without fear of reprisal?

The other is a question of judgement and morality.

If you perform said action, what is likely to happen? Is it morally
and ethically right to do it?

In the end, just because you can do something, doesn't mean you
should.

Walls

Do you ever get the feeling that no matter how much you push and push,
the walls that surround you won't give in?

Inevitability.

That's what it's all about. The french say "c'est la vie".
Americans proclaim "shit happens". Axl Rose proclaimed
"welcome to the jungle".

The immovable object.

Frustration eats at you from the inside. It's a force of self-defeat.
Much like the serpent that swallows its own tail. Evil feeds on
itself. Frustration feeds on you, its ironic origin.

So now what?

You push and push and push...

...and nothing gives.

The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, right?
Wrong. It's a straight line only if that line can be traversed.

Don't push.

Many of the martial arts advocate circular movements. You don't meet
force with force. You absorb. You redirect. You avoid.

Go around the wall.