Just another disgruntled Fed

2006-03-13T14:08:00.000-08:00

ANOTHER JERRY SPRINGER MOMENT

One of the headlines in today's paper involves another local shooting. This time, a 3 year old toddler shot his mom in the knee. I have to admit that it was obscure enough to get my attention. Upon further reading, I learned that the police arrived at the family home on Sunday afternoon to discover 43 year old Lin Lin Xie suffering from a gunshot wound. Apparently the boy's father had been handling the weapon on Saturday evening, along with some other handguns that he owned. On Sunday, the mother discovered the boy playing with the handgun and removed the bullets. That is, except the one that she forgot in the chamber.

Okay . . . can you get the vision of this? She's watching TV and absent-mindedly empties the bullets and hands the gun back to her kid to keep him occupied. Or perhaps she was talking on the phone, emptied the bullets and the kid was screaming for the gun back so she gave it to him. Too bazaar for me to imagine. Besides, who knows how it went down.

"It appears to be accidental," the police were quoted.
To which I say . . . "Duhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Okay here is where the weirdest part comes in . . . . when the kid found the gun it was securely hidden . . . UNDER THE COUCH CUSHIONS! ! ! ! So I guess emptying the bullets and laying the gun back down for the kid to pick up makes perfect sense after knowing that.

I guess the mom should just feel lucky that the kid was a toddler. Had he been older and taller, he might have hit something more vital -- and I don't mean her brain.

Happy Monday!

2006-03-10T14:57:00.000-08:00

Happy Friday!

Today was somewhat unproductive . . . or at least it felt like it. I conducted interviews for a vacant position in my office. Sometimes I wonder where these people come from. More than that, I wonder if they just have no one to tell them things. I mean, these aren't totally stupid people -- they have good interpersonal skills when you talk to them -- but just no business sense. I tried to look up one of the references on the web and couldn't find any such company. So I did a reverse lookup of the phone number -- it was the phone number of someone at his address with the same last name. Yet the supervisor had a completely different name. What do suppose the odds are that when I call that number and ask for the supervisor . . . I'm talking to a relative???? Hmmmmm. Then, one guy gives me the name of a business as his current employer that doesn't exist at all. Excuse me, I guess we call folks like that liars.

What's sad and weird is that this is a basic entry-level position, that required no specific past experience. If they would've just told me the truth - - "hey, I got laid off of my past three jobs" -- or "I haven't worked for 4 years," I probably would've hired them anyway. So instead, I'll hire the guy that told me he's just interested in getting his foot in the door and seeing if he can advance to a better job in the organization. At least he was honest. But then again, the others might have proved to be more entertaining.

Have a great weekend!

2006-03-09T14:49:00.000-08:00

Dear Blog:
Today was a pretty good day. The sun was shining for most of it and with any luck I will get out of here before the sun goes down . . . which is a treat for me. In addition, I hosted an "event" at work. We lunched as a group -- what we called a BYOB (bring your own bowl) party. We had chili and various soups, breads, salads, and desserts. It went over very well and everyone seemed to appreciate it. The best part of all -- we had very few left overs which means it was either well planned or the food was great or maybe a little of both. I didn't pull it off on my own though -- my employees jumped in and helped make it happen. Funny thing about pulling something like this together -- it starts out as an attempt to boost morale and it grows or spreads. Don't get me wrong -- I'm as cynical as the next person, but it seems to me that we need to sit back and laugh at ourselves and appreciate each other as people once in awhile. It isn't about the food, it is really just an excuse for people to enjoy each other. And maybe, just maybe in the process we make this place a little more tolerable. Just maybe we develop a little more patience or appreciation for the guy across the hall that we didn't know had three kids in grade school and a mini van that dropped its transmission last weekend on the way to soccer practice. Maybe the cranky accounting clerk will realize that people aren't talking about her behind her back and maybe the new person won't feel quite so new any longer. For me, it reminds my employees that can't seem to get a consensus on any given project to remember what it feels like to accomplish something TOGETHER.

It spreads in other ways too. Another manager is already talking about hosting a picnic at a nearby park as soon as the weather permits. Now folks have something to look forward to.

So tonight . . . I'm going home to clean up the remainder of the mess left from the chili making last night, and watch more American Idol. Hmmmmmmm - wonder who will be voted off.
later . . .

2006-03-08T15:49:00.000-08:00

Whip me. Beat me. Make me write bad checks.

I feel totally whipped today and I'm not sure why. For one thing, I've had a constant stream of visitors and interruptions from the time I arrived at work this morning until just about 10 minutes ago. I even had people approach me in the cafeteria to "talk business for a minute." Didn't know I was that popular or, in fact, knew that much to be shared with so many people. Problem is, most of these encounters resulted in some kind of take away -- an opportunity for me to research something or find out an answer or delay a decision so that I get to go through this all again on another day.

At any rate, I'm cruising for a very quiet and casual evening -- just gotta have them once in awhile. I'm thinking that I'll chill with some take out Chinese food and plant myself in front of the tube to critique the American Idol contestants. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't carry a tune in a DB handbag, but I love being able to side with or get pissed off at Simon. I'm also kind of liking the fact that Ryan Seacrest is clearly one of the shortest people on the program this season and it appears to be taking him back a little.

Speaking of television gone ary . . . have you caught this new game show called "Deal or No Deal?" They took a wannabe comedian (Howey Mandell) and gave him a show to host with hords of gorgeous young women and an unscene anonomous "banker" that he can only speak with by telephone. It is the biggest play on unnecessary suspense I've ever seen, but the contestants act so goofy getting in to it, that its almost entertaining. Okay . . . I lied. It was entertaining the first time I watched it. Now its just pathetic. Oh well.

kuwaiti momma . . . out

2006-03-07T15:07:00.000-08:00

A Fallen Hero

Today I took a long lunch along with several of my co-workers and employees. We took the train down to the Metrodome to view a piece of the cities’ most sad and haunting new sites. Even in the middle of the day, people gathered in flocks to see a make-shift memorial to a man that was considered a local hero, fallen way before his time. The age of 45 is no time to die. There were the typical things -- flowers and countless candles that despite the chill in the air and the mist that continued to fall, remained lit and continued to burn in the shadows of a dark and cloudy Minneapolis day. There were cards, and letters and drawings that varied in quality, size and color – some bearing sentimental phrases and some just crayon etched stick figures that said “Goodbye, Kirby.” And then there were the other things, the mementos that conveyed the message that only the owner knew – bobblehead dolls, Twins ball caps, old programs and ticket stubs, baseballs and bats, baseball cards and posters. These gestures would be typical for any celebrity, but what made these special is that each person leaving them somehow identified with this fallen hero on a personal level. And, I’m told, that’s just the kind of guy he was.

Kirby Puckett came to play for the Minnesota Twins in 1982, in the 1st round as the 3rd pick. He played in 10 American League All-Star games, being named MVP twice. He received the Silver Slugger Award 6 times during his career and managed to achieve 5 200-hit seasons. Locally, he’s most appreciated as helping the Minnesota Twins win 2 World Series, in 1987 and 1991. All of these achievements are notable of their own merit, but it is the struggle and persistence, the attitude and the ethic that makes him a true hero for those that knew him and followed his career closely.

Puckett came to professional baseball from meager beginnings, being a native of the south Chicago projects. He never forgot where he came from and never lost site of the fact that hard work is what got him where he ended up. He never lost site of the magic of his sport, always taking time to speak to children and fans wherever he went. He did not hestiate to let everyone and anyone know -- Kirby Puckett loved baseball. Although attempts to lure him back to the management side of the team failed after his professional retirement in 1996, his salary reflected a genuine progression of humble beginnings but recognized worth. One of his earliest contracts with the Twins was a mere $130,000 per year in 1985, a mere token of what today's superstars would earn. Yet through his achievements, he progressed to earn a total of $43,190,001 throughout his career.

Puckett was not blessed with an athletic physique – standing only 5’ 8”, he struggled with speed to match his competitors. He is known to have said that he didn’t believe it was the size of the player that mattered, but the size of his heart. Puckett believed that desire and determination was everything in baseball. His record certainly doesn’t contradict this opinion. In the 1984 season, Kirby had 557 at bats, with only 12 doubles, 5 triples and zero home runs. Two years later, he hit 31 home runs, with .537% for the season.

He retired in 1996 after being diagnosed with glaucoma, and eventually lost site in one eye. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2001 and continued to remain active in the Twins baseball social and managerial circles. Despite a couple of skirmishes with his personal life, Kirby remained a hero to the majority of the “real people.” After all, doesn’t everyone have some type of issues in their personal life at one time or another? The exploitation of these types of turmoil are best left for the tabloids to exploit -- right alongside headlines about space aliens sited in the drive-through at McDonald’s.

Kirby Puckett died from a stroke on March 5, 2006. The news riveted the Twin Cities. I knew very little about him, and am one of the few residents that had not met him, seen him play or heard him speak. He seemed to have touched thousands of people’s lives in some personal way, especially kids. He was a very public person and loved being so. I knew only one thing of Kirby, a quote that I'd heard him say several years ago and only recalled it when I heard it on the news last night. That quote alone was why I liked him. He was talking in an interview about a slump he’d been going through and he mentioned a couple of his team mates and competitors, saying that not everybody can stand up in a game and hit 4 in a row, because not everyone is meant to do that every time. So when you’re in the field and you’re playing defense, remember that someone has to bat and someone has to play defense. When you’re in the field, you have to give it all you’ve got EVERYTIME. And anyone can do that.

I always thought this statement was about more than baseball.

Minneapolis has spent more than a year trying to decide where to build and how to fund a new baseball stadium. Last fall, a site was chosen and the engineers and designers are working on plans even as I write this. It’s my guess that it will be named after Kirby Puckett and from what I can tell, he would have loved it. God knows, he deserved it.

Cya

2006-03-06T13:37:00.000-08:00

ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY! ! ! !
Returned to work today after being in travel status all last week. Was greeted by 18 voicemails and 96 new emails (3 of which mattered). I spent the entire day sorting through and replying to those that were remotely valid and have now reached the end of the regularly scheduled workday. That's it! That's all I've accomplished.
I've come to the realization that my employer needs only a few things from me -- response to 3% of the emails I receive, updated voicemail saying I'm not here (to which people leave responses anyway), and my signature on a few pieces of paper that will fall into a vast wasteland of unprocessed requirements without my senseless scribble. I returned to a stack of paper requiring my signature -- 3 purchase requests (one for some toner for the copy machine that was already purchased anyway, one for more paper that was delivered by 10:00 a.m. this morning, and one for repairs to a piece of mailing equipment that I'm not sure when it really broke); 2 travel orders authorizing members of my staff to attend a training meeting in Toledo tomorrow (I'm not sure but I'm guessing they've gone ahead and made travel reservations); 1 travel voucher for a reiumbursement for a staff member who attended a preconstruction meeting 2 weeks ago; time and attendance certifications for payroll; 8 requests for time off (3 of which were last week while I was gone); 2 reports to higher headquarters; a new user permission and certification for IT access in the computer system and 4 payment authorizations so that contractors could get paid for their services.
It seems really sad to me that after all of these years and a key managerial role, this is all that's left for me to do; this is all that is missed of me when I'm gone. Then again -- maybe this is the way its supposed to be.
Cya!

2006-02-23T14:32:00.000-08:00

itsa Thursday

Today was that special day . . . time for my semi-annual butt chew day. It seems that twice a year, without fail, senior management realizes what they are paying to rent office space. And just in case their bosses are watching, they go into their "oh shit!" mode. They react by venting their frustration on me -- not that I'm responsible for it, but just because they need to dump on someone. Prior to my arrival at this job, they would single out my employees as the dumpees, alternating one at a time until they'd gone through the whole string. After I came, I expressed concern over this practice -- so now its all about me. :)

Now here is a typical government practice. Each program manager is responsible for their budget. They make a request to acquire office space and define the needs through a form (called an SF81) that describes the location and radius that can be considered, the size in square footage, storage requirements, salient characteristics required, parking, etc. In effect, THEY dictate any aspect that will influence the price. Then, my employees submit that form to another agency (GSA) who advertises, competes and negotiates a lease to fulfill the requirements on the form. The program manager signs an occupancy agreement to seal the deal. The program manager's staff move in and occupy the facility. GSA sends my employees the invoice every month, who notifies the program how much they owe. The program manager pays the invoice through an electronic database. Then, 6 months later, they chew me out because the space costs too much.

I'm not sure where I fit in to this picture. I do not have the authority to downsize the requirement and reduce the square footage, I do not have the authority to disapprove the occupancy agreement, I don't even have a voice in saying whether or not they should pay what they pay. Yet, I get my butt chewed.
In a situation like this --- you can let it break you or you can deal with it. I've decided that someone has to do it So, I'm glad to oblige because truly it means nothing to me. In fact, I'm starting to take pride and kind of enjoy it -- I can look them straight in the eye while they rant and rave and think to myself, "Look at them. They think I really give a shit!" Sometimes, I can bearly hold back the smile. But I know that would ruin it for them, so I try to look humbled and intimidated. And since I know that they have no managerial ability or foresight to actually make a change that will resolve the problem, I will back in the same place in 6 months listening to them complain about the same exact lease, the same exact price as I heard today and last July and the February before that.

I kind of feel bad sometimes. By nature, I like to solve problems but I realized some time ago that success in this instance is not solving the problem. Success is really giving them a sacrificial lamb that they can eat up and spit out. It's how the inept feel empowered. And that is truly my job.

It's kind of a seasonal right of passage. cya

2006-02-22T09:49:00.000-08:00

Where the hell is my Prozac????

I have an employee that sits outside of my office in direct line with my door. Because of the way the cube is arranged, I can only see some of him, like when he works on one side of the workstation. I don’t pay much attention to the goings on out there – I’m not that kind of a boss. I do look out from time to time though, mainly to see if everyone’s bailed and I’m all that’s left behind.

This individual turned in his two week notice last Friday. As perplexing as it is to me, he is walking away from a job with a potential to GS-11, he was recently promoted to a GS-9. The new job is a GS-8. After talking with him about it though, I learned that this is a second career for him – he’s no spring chicken you see, but a nice enough guy, just the same. He finished an early and relatively successful career as a journalist, and then decided to break into the Fed circle – probably since we have such posh jobs and work environments. Anyway, he informed me that he’s less than 2 years from retiring and a GS-8 with less stress is good enough for him. “Nothing personal,” he reassured me. He likes everyone, enjoys the place enough and has no bad feelings about anything. Just doesn’t need this much stress in his life and doesn’t want to work that hard anymore. That was enough to convince me. “Sound and honest logic,” I thought.

Today is his first day back in the office after the big announcement, being as Monday was a holiday and all. Twice today I’ve looked up to see him cleaning out and boxing up the contents of desk drawers. I know that this is a ritual everyone goes through when they leave a place, but for some reason I am offended. Couldn’t he at least wait until one of the last days before he leaves? Is he that flipping anxious to get out of here? Is there something in those drawers he doesn’t want anyone to see?

There was a Showtime serial on a couple of years ago, called “Dead Like Me,” where the secretly disgruntled secretary put an entire organization in financial ruin by stealing and hording office supplies. When they followed her home one night, they found closets full of sticky notes and scotch tape refills. Suddenly, I’m suspicious. All afternoon, I’ve fought the impulse to go and ask him to return the motivational rewards he’s been given that are agency-related – the globe stress ball, the polo shirt with the agency logo on it, his unused business cards. After all, he’ll have no further use for them, will he?

I miss my prozac.

2006-02-21T07:09:00.000-08:00

Of all the accomplishments in my life (yeah, right!) I’m sad to say that one of things I’ve mastered best is being a chubby girl. I can’t imagine why the hell Oprah runs marathons and hires trainers . . . if you can afford to buy clothes to cover your body – eat up. That’s my theory. I truly believe that Jenny Craig is a front for some bully momma’s boy who has secretly held a grudge against the girl at the Dairy Queen that jilted him for a different prom date. And don’t even get me started on Nutrishit or HealthySlop dinners!

Like every government worker, I cherish the primary benefit I receive at my job – annual leave. It’s not only a benefit, it’s a status symbol. After all, earning 8 hours vacation time every pay period symbolizes that you’ve been through the RIF’s, the budget cutbacks, your share of Continuing Resolutions, health benefit open seasons and Combined Federal Campaigns and SURVIVED! Yeah, baby . . . all that crap and I’m still here! ! ! ! And all that it truly means is that we are somewhat momentarily reassured that we will be around long enough to cash in on our retirement.

So what do these two paragraphs of rambling mean? Friday, I woke up tired. (Everyone has had a morning like that – you wake up and want to throw the alarm clock across the room but your arms are just too damned heavy to exert that kind of energy.) I wanted so badly to stay home and just nap and be kind to myself all day long. I rationalized for at least 20 minutes before I dragged my sorry butt to the shower. I considered how deserving a 4-day weekend was, given the pressure and stress I’ve been working with the past couple of months. I didn’t want to seek an adventure – I just wanted a day to be lazy. What the hell is wrong with that once in awhile? After all, I’m sitting on a ton of vacation time – and all I had to do was pick up the phone and call. And I didn’t.

You wanna know why? Not because I’m some kind of patriot or public servant sacrifice nut; not because I worried what my colleagues would say about me wimping out and taking a longer than long weekend. Oh no. What motivated me to go to work on Friday was the fact that the 3rd Friday of every month is sloppy joe day in the cafeteria and I didn’t want to miss it! Only a terminally chubby girl thinks like that. At least I do something well.

2006-02-16T14:39:00.000-08:00

I never cease to marvel at how stupid some federal employees can be. In an agency that prides itself on recruiting and attracting some of the highest caliber of scientists, biologists, and other professionals -- what a bunch of schmucks! ! ! This same agency spends a ton of taxpayer money to "sensitize" these top notch employees. And on what?

Part of my duties (not the most gratifying) is to serve as a facility manager in a leased GSA federal building. That equates to a logistics manager to some in the biz. Finally, after 6 years of begging GSA to rennovate the restrooms in this building so that they would be fully ADA compliant, we were informed that they had finally uncovered some extra money to bring 1 floor of our facility up to code. This probably doesn't mean much to alot of people, but if you're one of the poor employees in a wheelchair on an upper floor, accomodation has meant wheeling all the way down to the 1st floor to pee, etc.

And now, FINALLY, they are going to fix the problem.

This involves the renovation of 2 existing restrooms -- removing a half-wall, widening the doorways and the stalls, etc. The total project is scheduled to take 2 weeks and transpires primarily during regular working hours. Of course, this means that one of four restrooms will be closed on this floor and inoperable during the construction. Keep in mind that there are a minimum of four restrooms on every other floor as well. Over the past 2 days, I've received at least 30 complaints about this inconvenience. I've heard how this is impacting the health of the workforce because they have to walk further to the restroom (20' feet at maximum); I've been told that having to use another restroom is a waste of time and thus a waste of taxpayer dollars for employees to have to walk further from their work area during the construction; I've been told that the construction activities (noise, dust, etc.) are distracting and impacting productivity, and I've been told by one of the labor union representatives that he believes GSA selected the wrong restroom to rennovate and that the union should have been allowed to vote on it. But the majority of the complaints have surrounded a theme of inconvenience.

Now, in the past 6 years, I never once heard Mike (a paraplegic draftsman who despite his severe disability manages to hold down a respectable job and support a young family) complain how hard it was for him to manage his restroom needs in this building. I am aware that another wheel-chair bound employee would have to leave work early occasionally because he wasn't able to make it all the way to the restroom in time and would soil himself in the process. Yet he was expected to use his annual leave to go home and clean himself up, without supposed embarrassment. And he never complained about it because he believed he was lucky to have this job. He felt rewarded to be able to serve the public in the best capacity he could.

I'm sick of the complaining. So much so, that tomorrow I'm going to advise anyone who complains that from this point forward they are to only use the restroom on 1st floor -- that way they can appreciate the inconvenience that some of their wheelchair-bound co-workers have endured for the past 6 years! ! ! Am I sensitive enough now???
cya