johnvano.com

I Feel I Am Being Watched

Every morning at work, I use the restroom. I am not unlike others in this biological response. Yet no matter how I vary my rising to walk the hallway, the restroom on my floor seems closed for cleaning. 

Yesterday it was 7:52 am when this happened, and today it's 9:47 am. I have been in this building maybe 65 days since I was hired, but this disturbance is constant. Floor two does not have this problem. The bathroom 242 paces away and on floor 1 does not have this problem... I can't tell you how it grieves me. At least I know it's clean--when it's open.

My New Job

Starting a new job means meeting new people, accepting new challenges, and minding your Ps and Qs. Here are some of the very important Ps at my new place of employment.

     

 

The Santa Story

I thought this post from my extensive archives was fitting for this season of cheer. Originally published by johnvano on 3/1/06:

There are grown men, all over America right now, thinking about Christmas. Why? Because they are literally grooming themselves for November, in hopes of being St. Nikolas.

Think about it. How many different "Santas" are there in America? There are thousands of shopping malls, and each is staffed with at least one Santa-man. How many more are waiting in the wings--aspiring to be Santa next Christmas? They may be paying their dues ringing the bell for the Salvation Army--hoping for their big break, or they might be dressing up for their grandkids, daring only to dream of a much larger audience one day. And what of the black Santa? The African-American man who has this same dream, but many more obstacles to overcome.

One thing all these "Santas" have in common is the commitment to their facial hair. Certainly, prospective employers won't even look at you sideways if you don't have your mutton chops. Think of the years of growing, grooming, and lengthening--of the summers spent in full beard, dreaming of that big break. Take me for example, today I have a beard. I am not committed to it at all--I think of myself as a clean shaven guy, but every 18 to 24 months, I get lazy and grow a beard. Any day I feel like it, I shave it off and go back to my normal life. But these guys have to bearded guys--and when you grow a beard your first couple of times, ladies, it itches! I say this to help each of you understand the commitment these men are making. A sacrifice they are making for you and for me, for our children, and for our children's children.

So the next time you happen upon a man who is a little more grizzly than suits your tastes, ask yourself, is this a future Santa in my midst? Why not take a moment to pat that man on the back, or shake his hand, tickle his whiskers, and thank him for his service to your country!

Eight Interviewing Styles

Based on my years of management--and more recently--my various interviews as a job candidate, I compiled this list of "Eight Interviewing Styles" for a blogging network. Give it a read and earn me some readership points (translation: future income). Hey, it's written by me, your blogging friend, so you might actually enjoy it!

Leap Day Memo

To:     Salaried Employees
From:  The Management
Subject: Leap Year Inequities

In response to Matt's question raised at this week's staff meeting, yes, you are working one additional day this year--for the same pay. I had my secretary check this and it's true--discounting universally recognized holidays, the year 2007 contained 252 business days while the year 2008 contains 253 such days.

I assure you, this is not a strategy by "the man" to take you down. This company has not participated in known collusion with the government and planetary scientists to manipulate an extra day of labor out of you. Each and every one of you is vitally important to our success and we value your contributions every day. So much so, that we pay into your insurance coverage more than the industry standard. This is why we are urging Matt--and everyone else who is concerned about this "labor inequity"--to think of your labor today as a "tip" to your generous employer for the health care package we provide. Yes, you've gained a day this year--we all have--but that does not entitle you to spend it anywhere other than where you belong--at the office.

There are fresh arabica beans in the kitchen. Happy Leap Day.

Curtis Hofer,
HR

Represent'n

I have been absent from the blog, but present with my work over the past several days because of a business trip to Orlando. Herewith are some reflections on my adventure.

Don't ever use Mears Transportation out of Orlando. In advance of our trip, I reserved this service for my airport pickup and delivery to the hotel. I even paid extra for the guy with the little sign, not to see my name in Sharpie, but so that my colleague and I would not miss our 6 p.m. dinner meeting after a 4:30 p.m. arrival. But after a brisk flight, there was no little sign guy. We went to the Mears counter and overheard them tell an unreserved individual that it would be an hour's wait. I thought surely they're ready for me--I have a reservation! But we too were given a one hour delay--due to some imaginary accident. Imaginary I presume because though they said it was terrific and had the whole of Orlando shut down, every other taxi and shuttle service seemed to be working fine. We shared a cab with an old friend we ran into--and made it to our dinner just in time. Our business associates, however, were 40 minutes late--so that was a little funny.

As we pulled up to the hotel, my colleague spotted a woman with purple hair--surprisingly not uncommon for the event we attended. She snapped a picture for us all to enjoy (see photo to the right). At the hotel counter, I asked for any special rooms they might be able to upgrade me to in my quest for a king-size bed. They offered me a VIP suite with Murphy bed, which I greedily accepted at no additional cost. This room gave me so much space (I was checked in for 4 nights)--with a full kitchen (sans the microwave, oven, and stove), bathroom with shower stall, couch, soft-side chairs, table with chairs, bar with stools, TV in cabinet, and pull-down bed. A Murphy bed is the kind of bed the Three Stooges would always get wrapped up in--which would fall on their heads or suck them into the wall. The hotel clerk assured me that she has jumped on these to verify to their functionality, safety, and authenticity. And in truth, it was a very comfortable king--and I loved the seven pillows all to myself!

I bought two pay-per-movies during my stay--For Your Consideration (an Academy Award spoof by the folks who brought us Waiting for Guffman and Best in Show) and The Good Shepherd (the Matt Damon-Angelina Jolie CIA movie). Both were slightly disappointing, but I'll review them in full at a later date. After my goal to have a successful conference on behalf of my organization, my second hope was that I could put in 8 hours of writing--doing a little each night--on my novel. Fat chance--I was so tired from running around 12 hours a day that I spent a total of 40 minutes on the thing. I feel abysmal about this, but I was so wasted in the evenings, I'd fall asleep during my PPV.

The Hairy Bar of Soap

I once worked for someone who had a private bathroom and shower in her office. One morning she came into work to discover her shower doors steamed, and a hairy bar of soap on the ledge. Within five minutes, a paper memo had been distributed to every employee--castigating the perpetrator for their malefeasance. Conjecture spread throughout the small office--who could it be? Why would someone come in early, just to shower-up in the inner sanctum of a sixty-year-old woman's office?

But I quickly learned the secret, as I took the confession of my supervisor who, struggling to make a little more money for his growing family, had secretly taken a paper route. It had rained that morning, causing the ink to run on the morning edition. He rushed into the office before anyone arrived, but because he was a sopping, runny mess, he took a shower and changed.

What's a sodden adult paperboy to do? He was desperate. Yet in his haste, he left tell-tale signs--and a thin strand of DNA on the soap.

I urged him to confess--and that he did, which resulted in his restoration with our boss, and a subsequent memo on the sanctity of personal space. I don't know where the showering paperboy is today, but you can bet he always knows how he's left the soap.