When Google headhunts you, you HOP THE FUCK TO. Awesome. Dude.

In Soviet Russia Google does not headhunt you, ever.

Labels: internet, people, work

Clearly, yes, people can be morons. People can be mind-numbingly dense and so, so slow to catch on that one really wonders how on earth they got to be where they are, who encouraged them, how they chose this, and why. But yes, of course, it happens. and there's noting to be done about it now, and nothing to be done about it by me. but being passive-aggressive and bitchy about it is not going to suddenly make them smart, so suck it up, dumbass. They're only making me look better, more helpful, compassionate, adaptable, widely skilled, et c. (And the better i look, the more flexible work is going to be in return when i come back and am a parent and want different, funky hours every week and a half; so, this is really, really, really in my best interest. So, again, suck it up.)

Interestingly, i got a look at the standard six-monthly employee review sheet, which is essentially identical to the one-month new-hire review sheet. There are four categories for everything, and i'm paraphrasing out of necessity, but not inaccuarately, because i was kind of shocked, and so they stuck in my head (and, yes, they were in english, so this is not an interpretation):

1. Needs improvement.
2. Gets some requested things included in job description done, to a point where they do not have to be completely redone, and does not require absolutely constant supervision.
3. Gets most things requested or included in job description done, fairly presentably, and appears to have the capacity to work independently in certain areas.
4. Gets everything requested and included in job description done, and done well, independently.

And apparently being in Category Four is not such a common thing? Holy fuck, my work ethic sucks hard, but still, i can't imagine getting only "some" of my job description done properly, and especially not needing improvement if i did. is this supposed to be motivational? Or, by virtue of doing the things i said i could do when they hired me, am i going to be promoted to running the company in a year or three?

as an extra perk, having a good boss, and being appreciated by said boss, is delicious.

Labels: work

this was not a choice i wanted taken away. the feminist in me is really fucking pissed. i'm wondering if i need a career change or if i'd even be able to go back at all. they laughed at me. i am very smart. highly trained. more than highly capable. and while i may be too zen to have the ambition to go along with it, thinking of sitting at home for months and months and months, let alone years, suggests that i am at sky-high risk for PPD.

even though the, well, burgeoning mama is doing a happy dance.

it's all making me a little dizzy.

Labels: baby, family, health, reflection, work

i just got mommy tracked. it is not quite as bad as being fired - but close. that thing where the coyote runs off the cliff and then hangs in the air for a second, and it looks at you, and it didn't want this? it's a long way to fall.

and, on going back to work afterwards: if i don't go back, the Austrian government pays me for staying home and out of the workforce, and i get free health insurance, and don't have to find day care. and when i asked about it at the day care nearby, just to see, they thought i was kidding. They thought i was kidding. Go back? So soon? No, no, they prefer to take kids when they are 3. Years.

it has never occurred to me not to go back.

wait, what decade am i in?

Labels: baby, vienna, work

• Anything with the words "twenty-five days of vacation" is my friend.
  
• Espresso.
  
• my window opens.
  
• oh, and, i have a window.
  
• Having a such thing as a free lunch that does not even count as taxable income.
  
• i can walk to it.
  
• Austrian health insurance. no copay! none!
  
• They are going to get me German lessons.
  
• "No, it's fine, it's like preemptive comp time."
  
• Free shoes.

Labels: work

waiting for the work visa to come in.

argh. waiting.

Labels: work

Plus, it was only a matter of time. Every scientist accidentally starts fires. every single one - and if they say they haven't, it's just because they're too embarrassed. My fires are particularly lucky because both have happened when nobody else was around and both were entirely controllable and this one really wasn't even a fire. There were no visible flames.

So yesterday someone (and, yes, i know who someone was) decided to finally eat the leftover fish that had been sitting in the fridge at work for nearly a week, and i hope they enjoyed it greatly, because it made the entire lab reek. And one hopes that the ventilation system will take care of it shortly but it was bad all afternoon. and then i came in today, i had things to do, and it was still bad. And i wanted a cup of tea. only lab reeked of fish, and the microwave reeked of fish particularly badly, and i did not want my cup of tea to taste like week old leftover snapper. because, fucking eew. and so there was some baked goods that somebody had brought in that were getting a little stale and nobody was eating them and so i decided, Lemon poppyseed cake smell. right? only apparently stale lemon poppyseed cake does not like to go in the microwave. because it was working and the lemon poppyseed smell was starting to cover up the fish smell, and then i turned around and there was smoke racing out of the damn microwave. And more smoke inside of it. But no flames! this is very important. i did not start an actual fire.

And the fish stench was to the point that sharply burnt baked goods still smell better than fish. The fish is entirely gone.

Labels: work

a term which i may be misusing, but what i mean is, This tweency little detail perfectly illustrates how awesome my job is. Probably, though, as a fact-based story, it fails to be an actual allegory and is instead just kind of small and illuminating. yeah, whatever. anyone know what word i'm looking for, here?

They have a drawer full of laboratory timers. and while this may not seem like a big thing to anyone else, this is huge. an entire drawer full of lab timers. those uber-neccessary little things that whenever you desperately need one, somebody's stolen or "borrowed" it - even though you etched your name into the little screen and scratched the hell out of it and beat it all up deliberately so noone else would think it worked. they have a wealth of them. a drawer. full. it's mind-blowing. And, it's ten fifteen, and ... well, nobody's here, which is also kind of nice. Oh, and plus, there's an espresso/cappucino/freshly-ground-automatic-coffee machine. And those skinny flat-screen monitors. And the nice people. And purple nitrile gloves. And leeeeetle baby mice that one can dissect under well-lit microscopes and examine under flourescent ones. And molecular biology. *swoon*

Labels: work

had a job interview.

Rocked said job interview.

Having the right outfit totally helps. [/ditz]

i want, i want, i want. Step back and breathe. So then. If i had a different job my pants would last longer - no more acid holes. Stupid lab.

Labels: work

every time i apply for a job i apply or phone or interview (this time) or whatever, and afterwards, Ooh. I could totally do that. That would be so much fun. I'd LOVE that. That would totally fill my need to feel like i'm doing something socially responsible and environmentally aware. I could feed people in Africa (this time)! There would be careers branching out from that one job later. That would be The Perfect Job! every time.

and then every time i'm - well, not really devastated, but - disappointed. Sad. Crestfallen? Crestfallen might describe it exactly - that sort of free-fall thing from giddy "that went well" ness to Oh Those Stupid Motherfuckers Don't Know What They're Missing.

wish me luck.

and what am i doing with this The Perfect Job Every Time thing? am i waiting for a career to come along so i can trip over it? when - if - i get my next job, will that be it? will i be in love with it, whatever it is? even if it's absolute shit (which, for a biologist, can be the literal truth)? if it's shit, but it's globally responsible and famine-preventing shit? 'cuz wouldn't that be awesome? (no, that would be shit.)

And even if you win the rat race you're still a motherfucking rat. And who wants to run for that privilege?

Labels: work

i have a new desk plant at work, a cute little ivy with white-edged leaves. (and here's how much of a nerd i am: i was looking at the green and light green and white pattern on the leaves and wondering what sort of genotype it had. I'm starved for real biochemistry.) I'm conscientiously keeping the soil moist and keeping my little halogen-type desk lamp on over it during the day. Because i'm pretty sure previous desk plants have died as a direct result of Not Having Any Freaking Light, Even Though I Have A Window. My window faces north. Yeah. All the cubicle and office windows in the building face north. But. Desk plant. Not dead yet and i've already left it for a week and a half over christmas, so i've had it for a total of possibly a month now. No conspicuously dead leaves, even. It's so cute. And small. And i really want it to live.

Labels: work

and it's not over yet.

Labels: work

applying for random jobs at the uni is ... a lengthy procedure. And alternately hopeful and frustrating. There are multiple job-hunting websites for the university alone - four that i've found so far - and they each have their own long series of pages full of forms to fill out - and i think i've applied for everything i'm remotely qualified for. And, damn, some of the jobs have been open for simply ages. One since April of last year. So they might be really picky, in which case, i'm not remotely qualified. Wish me luck.

And you find this description and it's all I Can Totally Do That only then they want a masters in educational sciences and suddenly i can't. And there's one that i'm hands-down good for but pays half my current salary and that's just not going to work. And there's the one with the nepotism, but hey, i'll still take it if they offer, and it isn't really - not even a conflict of interest really. Not at all. And i'm not sure if i should say i'm related to M or not. Because technically i'm not. Yet. And i'm not sure if that's really a bad thing. And you're all hopeful because there's this one and that'd be cool, right, i could have a career in that, that's fucking booming, and we're going to be doing this for the next hundred years with world population skyrocketing and we're using GM stuff anyway, and fuck it's food, i can be passionate about food, right, only well, am i qualified? Fuck. And there's this one that i do every fucking day only i don't have a degree in journalism already, but i do that every fucking day. And there's ... and there's ... and i could do that - but i don't have the right letters. Or the right numbers. Or something. And the damn website won't let me apply for stuff i don't have the right letters for.

Labels: work

every year, m's work has the Big Holiday Party.
every year, i stress out way too much over what to wear to it.
every year, it really doesn't matter.
every year, i do it again anyway.

why? aren't i modern and empowered enough? i'm not a fashion plate. nobody is going to remember what i'm wearing. Not even me. what the hell? where is this weird impulse to get new chandelier earrings coming from? and as much as i can tell myself it really doesn't matter, why doesn't it go away already?

Labels: work

it's raining. Three-day work week. yay. Grocery shopping, tonight. which means i need to figure out what i'm doing for thanksgiving. Now. So. For group/lab thanksgiving, on thanksgiving: two pumpkin pies, possibly purchased as-is from the store. chess pie: brown sugar, cornmeal, pie-crust, vinegar. can i put expensive vinegar in a chess pie? is that worth it? and what kind? hm. Because not rice vinegar, eew, and not really balsamic, either, but, what, raspberry white wine? no. Um. Must review vinegar options in-store. cider vinegar? i'm fascinated by this possibility. i like weird vinegars, though. But it's only, what, a tablespoon? so it'd be subtle, right? i so hate about dot com. But. they have a recipie. C, i'll post ours later for posterity, but i needed to know ... er ... what i needed. hey, now i'm going to have a big box of cornmeal and nothing to do with it. what else can one do with cornmeal?

Labels: work

i hate the smell of popcorn.

i know this makes me weird. but i'm sitting here nice and peacefully in my stupid little cubicle and Texan Girl made popcorn and now it reeks. and it will continue to reek all day. i do my best not to stink up the entire area with my food, i really do. i've eaten lunch outside. i've eaten lunch in my car. and by the standards of people around here i'm sure i'm incredibly rude most of the time (being a Yankee and all i can hardly help it). so the whole stupid little room, with maybe a dozen of us or so in our cubes now clicking away, and it reeks, and she didn't offer anyone to share. do people not get that food smells? and that smells are not contained by four-and-a-half-foot fabric panels?

movie popcorn isn't so rank - it's part of the whole ambiance of the place, and it isn't quite as fucking rancid as the microwave stuff. and if it doesn't have fake butter on it it's fine. but this ... this ... i have to go.

Labels: work

it's official: i'm getting a New Boss. as of Monday.

not sure if i should stay. Not that it matters yet, i haven't got any actual job offers, per se. Maybe i just won't look as hard. yay New Boss!

Labels: work

long day. long good day. Shit hit the fan early at work, but not my shit. Not sure what the final consequenses might be; i haven't been Officially Informed of the shit hitting the fan in the first place, yet, so. boss is hiding from everybody. (was boss's shit that hit the fan.) Burned my finger a bit on an experiment, but. Leaving an hour early. Nice left-overs were for lunch. Go home and play sparkly hostess lady later, fun. Exhausting. But fun. Emily loves parties - hopefully Denali won't do too badly. He'll just hide, anyway. Must change shirt, shoes, put on makeup. Must, yes. M has to get the keg. House is basically clean. Hope we have enough charcoal. Like throwing parties. Even if a Tuesday. Especially like throwing parties when don't have to pay for them and funded by Grad Students. w00t!

Labels: work

busybusy. remember to-do: more dog food. pictures developed (probably no scanner for a while, guys, but i have house pictures and dog pictures and assuming the stupid disposable camera isn't all screwy this time they'll develop properly anyway and will be posted eventually). email directions to n and k. identify and locate cd's to bring for parents. pack. think of something to do with hair @ s's wedding. get summer-time pajamas (yay angie and Old Navy discount card). find vet's phone number to leave note on coffee table for just-in-case. charge cell phone. write cover letter, print out cover letter, drop off resume. (locate office at which to drop off resume.) identify shoes to wear with new outfit for wedding that (a) is summery but (b) covers still-disfiguring, not-really-itchy, ugly-as-hell poison ivy-rash on elbow/lower arm (probably stick with flip flops - either the leather or target-turquose-rhinestone). be thankful that new outfit is already identified / purchased / is really only a sweater. decide on pinstripe or linen skirt (probably go with linen - keep in mind this decision influences shoes). identify books to bring with (remember parents have an entire fucking library, even if most of it's boring). tell m parents have philosophy books for him to read if he likes. remember to finish / bring back plague, already, i've been reading it for how long now, and i'm so fucking sick of that stupid little city but i want to see who else dies.

i can never deliberately stop reading things. it can sort of peter off (i.e., ulysses, though when i'm done, i think i should read finnegans wake, and in the meantime, this might come in handy) but - even then i'm never really satisfied. i'm on about page 150 of ulysses. not sure if i'll bring it with or not. something to do. meh. maybe. anyway, camus is waiting for me in ny. can't believe the parents don't have a dog yet. remember to go to the zoo in ny and hopefully see the wolf puppies. Let it occur to self that denali also looks like a red wolf. breathe.

Labels: media, random, work

sleepy-sleepy. language-not-s-o-good. Fucking computers. if i had other things to do (i.e. not stare at a computer screen all day at work) i might be ... more inclined to ... stare at a computer screen for fun. Think i'll take a nap on the deck after work. Think i'll leave at five on the fucking dot. Hour and a half. ok.

Labels: work

*not very factual on motorcycles either

:anmut: :annika: :chin: :dooce: :ewok mama: :food: :little frog school: :lj: :longform: :low odysseys: :natalya: :rich: :salon: :slate: :this is how: :unique yn:



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