Diverging Paths

One of the three transformer arrays in my building blew out this morning, plunging the office in to darkness. We have no lights, heating, or plumbing, since apparently the pumps that get the water up our floor are out as well. Somehow, they managed to jury-rig power and internet for us, but the entire internal network is down.

I'm getting a lot of time to catch up on my blogging.

or...

Remembering Better Times

(Pictures for this review taken with my Canon PowerShot SD800is.

This post is dedicated to all of my former coworkers.)

I was laid off today.

Not just me. Everyone. My friends, my coworkers, my comrades in arms. Even the very first amongst us. Five years of blood and toil gone in a heartbeat. The doors have closed. Game over. Elvis has left the building.


(The Lobby Bar at the Hyatt Regency Long Beach.)

There were six of us, at first, working out of a tiny converted warehouse in a bad neighborhood. The detailing shop next door filled the air with a sickly stench that gave us headaches and made if difficult to breathe. We left the loading door in the back rolled all the way up during the day, even when the summer heat turned our little concrete cinder block into an oven. Late at night, crack heads smoked out in the parking lot behind the warehouse. It was always a good idea to get out before dark.


(Whisky and Coke)

It was difficult making ends meet with wages that an In-N-Out worker would have scoffed at. But, we were young, hungry, and we had a dream. We thought we were going to change the world. Sometimes, the wind would come in from the ocean, replacing the paint fume miasma with the clean scent of salt laced with perfume from a nearby florist. On those days we breathed deeply and hoped.


Read the complete article, The Lobby Bar (Hyatt Regency Long Beach) - Long Beach, CA [Eating], on Chubbypanda.com.

or...

I'm Not Dead (although it sure feels close)

(White Chocolate Martini. Cherries are strong medicine.)

Halfway through another hellish work week. My body is worn and my spirit is sore. Deadlines abound. There aren't enough hours for all the tasks. At least the bruise on my jaw has started to fade. Took a softball to the chin last week. A punch is easier to duck, easier to see coming. There are telltale signs. Dipped shoulder, shifted feet. The eyes give it away. Can't tell when a grounder will pop up. Can't always get your mitt up in time. Just gotta roll with it. Try not to take it straight on.

Project management is like trying to catch a ground ball. Sometimes the ball slides into your hand, smooth as silk. Sometimes you miss it entirely. The shortstop is your backup. He'd better have your back. The gods help you if he doesn't.

The worst are the ones you can't catch; can't avoid. You gotta take that hit. Gotta take it for the team. Grope for the ball, scrabbling and fumbling. Fight through the pain. Get it in your hand. Get the throw off. Get it to first/second/third/home. Get it where it needs to go.

I'm on the company team. Cat wants me to quit. It's too easy to get hurt.

Read the full article: Hemisphere North Lounge - Richmond, BC [Eating]