Aug. 1st, 2003 12:02 pm
Busy Thursday
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muckefuckYesterday was about as crazy as a day gets for me. It would be child's play for a salesman, nothing special for a lawyer, but, lemme tellya, it's hell on a librarian.
My entire morning disappeared into a black pit of training for the new time-entry system. It was "interactive", which means that after the speaker had droned at us for an hour-and-a-half about the system, we logged into it and did some exercises. Or tried. The db was so underpopulated that only half the personal exercises and almost none of the ones for supervisors were doable.
But it gets better: One of the first assignments was to view the timesheet summary for our own hours. Neither the head of Personnel or the presenter could explain why my totals were greater than the number of hours I had entred. The latter reminded me that this is a test database, but that everything should be fixed by the time we go live in a week. Right, because that's just a tiny little bug: A time-entry system that CAN'T ADD. As a colleague said, when I brought this to his attention, "It's not like that's an elementary thing to do with a computer." And it's not like it affects anything important, y'know, like how much I GET PAID.
I escaped from that as soon as I could and tried to tie up loose ends before my inspection--like why my attorney hadn't sent me any of the information he'd promised me by that morning. After ten minutes for lunch, I swept into the florist on the way to the el and schnagged a very handsome double begonia which was sold to me by a twelve year-old. Totally worth it. When I got to the condo office, the business manager was chatting with a middle-aged man who was putting together the entertainment for the upcoming association barbecue. She thanked me for the flower and said, "Why don't you come? After all, you'll be living here." Plus, I got my first look at the declaration, budget, maintenance plan, rules and regs, and so forth. It all reeks of professionalism and good planning; I am so relieved.
The inspector and I got along so well that the seller's agent immediately asked, "Do you two know each other?" Within seconds, we were talking about Art Deco, plants, and Latin declensions. He was thorough, took copious notes, and gave me suggestions on what improvements I should and shouldn't attempt. I am very glad he insisted on viewing the electricals: irregular, custom-built breaker box (which he endearingly referred to as "jerrymandered"). The letter from my lawyer demanding they fix that--potentially a $1000 job--went out this morning. Most interesting discovery: All the doorways are metal! Just try to burn my apartment down!
I called![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu about meeting up with him and the nice couple just back from China who had a passel of scrolls to show him, but I happened to pick the one ten-minute block all afternoon when he was away from his desk. It gave me time to gulp down some dim sum at Chiu Quon before heading to the lawyer's. Despite that I've never learned the fucking lake streets in River North, I found his office on Ohio without much difficulty. He was great, spending almost a full hour talking me through the process and referring me to resources for fighting my tax assessment and other homeowners' hobbies. (Turns out he had tried to send me everything, but an underscore instead of a hyphen in my e-mail address had resulted in a bounce.)
At that point...well, meeting up withmonshu was out of the question. Rush hour was approaching and I didn't relish trying to head north. So I went west instead, planning to hop on the 54/Cermak at Grand and ride right up to the hospital. Unfortunately, the walk to the station was more of a hike (and in full sun at that), though it did take me past an Office Despot where I picked up much-needed files for my growing sheaves of purchase-related documents.
That's how, at five p.m., I stumbled into Nuphy's new room with a bag of condo docs, a bag of files, and a bag of leftover Vietnamese dumplings. He's out of the ICU into intermediate care, less one trach tube and other annoying attachments. First the first time in seven weeks, he finally sounds like himself again. I may go into more detail later about the dream world he now realises he was living in and which he recalls in surreal blocks.
Nemuci left about an hour after I arrived; in the meantime, the Swiss Miss had arrived. I admit to feeling relieved when he left at quarter after eight, since he had gotten snippish when Nuphy asked him not to sit on the air conditioning unit. Jesus, God, man, how hard is it to humour the old man in the hospital bed? It was the first time I'd been alone with Nuphy in two weeks or so. Having witnessed him eat his first solid food in two months, I couldn't stop repeating how happy I was.
Unfortunately, the food caused him worry and I felt compelled to stay well past the end of visiting hours to reassure him. Everything came out fine the other end and he promised to try to read himself to sleep. Before I left, he thanked me profusely and I told him what I've been telling everyone: That no matter how much I do for him, I couldn't repay him for everything he's done for me.
There's was no way public transit could have gotten me home before 11 p.m., so I rode only as far as Space Mountain and caught a cab. I'd planned to go straight to bed, but found, when I got in, my third phone message fromspookyfruit in three days, this one ending with the tip that it'd be okay to call late. Knowing that no call to him is a short call, I rang him up and talked for at least a half-hour. At that point, I was too wound up to sleep and had to resort to reading more about homeowner's insurance in order to sack out before midnight.
My entire morning disappeared into a black pit of training for the new time-entry system. It was "interactive", which means that after the speaker had droned at us for an hour-and-a-half about the system, we logged into it and did some exercises. Or tried. The db was so underpopulated that only half the personal exercises and almost none of the ones for supervisors were doable.
But it gets better: One of the first assignments was to view the timesheet summary for our own hours. Neither the head of Personnel or the presenter could explain why my totals were greater than the number of hours I had entred. The latter reminded me that this is a test database, but that everything should be fixed by the time we go live in a week. Right, because that's just a tiny little bug: A time-entry system that CAN'T ADD. As a colleague said, when I brought this to his attention, "It's not like that's an elementary thing to do with a computer." And it's not like it affects anything important, y'know, like how much I GET PAID.
I escaped from that as soon as I could and tried to tie up loose ends before my inspection--like why my attorney hadn't sent me any of the information he'd promised me by that morning. After ten minutes for lunch, I swept into the florist on the way to the el and schnagged a very handsome double begonia which was sold to me by a twelve year-old. Totally worth it. When I got to the condo office, the business manager was chatting with a middle-aged man who was putting together the entertainment for the upcoming association barbecue. She thanked me for the flower and said, "Why don't you come? After all, you'll be living here." Plus, I got my first look at the declaration, budget, maintenance plan, rules and regs, and so forth. It all reeks of professionalism and good planning; I am so relieved.
The inspector and I got along so well that the seller's agent immediately asked, "Do you two know each other?" Within seconds, we were talking about Art Deco, plants, and Latin declensions. He was thorough, took copious notes, and gave me suggestions on what improvements I should and shouldn't attempt. I am very glad he insisted on viewing the electricals: irregular, custom-built breaker box (which he endearingly referred to as "jerrymandered"). The letter from my lawyer demanding they fix that--potentially a $1000 job--went out this morning. Most interesting discovery: All the doorways are metal! Just try to burn my apartment down!
I called
monshu about meeting up with him and the nice couple just back from China who had a passel of scrolls to show him, but I happened to pick the one ten-minute block all afternoon when he was away from his desk. It gave me time to gulp down some dim sum at Chiu Quon before heading to the lawyer's. Despite that I've never learned the fucking lake streets in River North, I found his office on Ohio without much difficulty. He was great, spending almost a full hour talking me through the process and referring me to resources for fighting my tax assessment and other homeowners' hobbies. (Turns out he had tried to send me everything, but an underscore instead of a hyphen in my e-mail address had resulted in a bounce.)At that point...well, meeting up with
monshu was out of the question. Rush hour was approaching and I didn't relish trying to head north. So I went west instead, planning to hop on the 54/Cermak at Grand and ride right up to the hospital. Unfortunately, the walk to the station was more of a hike (and in full sun at that), though it did take me past an Office Despot where I picked up much-needed files for my growing sheaves of purchase-related documents.That's how, at five p.m., I stumbled into Nuphy's new room with a bag of condo docs, a bag of files, and a bag of leftover Vietnamese dumplings. He's out of the ICU into intermediate care, less one trach tube and other annoying attachments. First the first time in seven weeks, he finally sounds like himself again. I may go into more detail later about the dream world he now realises he was living in and which he recalls in surreal blocks.
Nemuci left about an hour after I arrived; in the meantime, the Swiss Miss had arrived. I admit to feeling relieved when he left at quarter after eight, since he had gotten snippish when Nuphy asked him not to sit on the air conditioning unit. Jesus, God, man, how hard is it to humour the old man in the hospital bed? It was the first time I'd been alone with Nuphy in two weeks or so. Having witnessed him eat his first solid food in two months, I couldn't stop repeating how happy I was.
Unfortunately, the food caused him worry and I felt compelled to stay well past the end of visiting hours to reassure him. Everything came out fine the other end and he promised to try to read himself to sleep. Before I left, he thanked me profusely and I told him what I've been telling everyone: That no matter how much I do for him, I couldn't repay him for everything he's done for me.
There's was no way public transit could have gotten me home before 11 p.m., so I rode only as far as Space Mountain and caught a cab. I'd planned to go straight to bed, but found, when I got in, my third phone message from
spookyfruit in three days, this one ending with the tip that it'd be okay to call late. Knowing that no call to him is a short call, I rang him up and talked for at least a half-hour. At that point, I was too wound up to sleep and had to resort to reading more about homeowner's insurance in order to sack out before midnight.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Circuits
Re: Circuits
It was snaky in appearance, but that's wiring for you. The main line was double-tapped and the neutrals were all bound together in an ungodly clump. I don't know enough about electricals to know what basis this might form for an ingenious analogy.
no subject
no subject
I'm really curious what the reply will be on the box. When I asked the business manager for a recommendation and she gave me the name of a guy who was familiar with the units, she pointed out that any job would have to be custom because the opennings in the walls are too shallow to allow a standard breaker panel. It could be this is already his work!
Inspector
Sounds like this guy was pretty good...
-e
Re: Inspector