(no subject)
If anyone ever offers to let you work remotely - please, please, please take it from someone who's been there: don't do it. It's a trap.
All your co-workers' annoying personality ticks turn out to be vitally important communication cues. Take all those away and replace them with really bad communication skills (won't return phone calls, needing to mind read what they mean vs. what they actually said in email, etc.) and you've got a recipe for EXTREME aggravation. On the order of dig a hole, then fill it back up. And now it's IN YOUR HOUSE.
For bonus points, have hammers and nail guns going off on the walls and ceiling of the room in which you're trying to work.
...
In happier news, I stumbled on a local cache of pretty good tennis players. On one hand, it's kind of flattering that these guys actually thought I was good enough to ask me to play with them. On the other, these dudes are way, way, way better than me. My ego is currently resting in a bowl of ointment and feeding on an opiate drip. I think the worst part was these dudes weren't even trying that hard. They were just stretching their legs before strolling over to meet their wives at the nearby farmer's market. Morning coffee, local produce, stomp on n00bs. Check^3.
Drove down to Monterey, rode bikes, wandered around the seriously scenic Pebble Beach golf course. I'd post pictures if my camera cable wasn't hopelessly lost in a box, somewhere.
All your co-workers' annoying personality ticks turn out to be vitally important communication cues. Take all those away and replace them with really bad communication skills (won't return phone calls, needing to mind read what they mean vs. what they actually said in email, etc.) and you've got a recipe for EXTREME aggravation. On the order of dig a hole, then fill it back up. And now it's IN YOUR HOUSE.
For bonus points, have hammers and nail guns going off on the walls and ceiling of the room in which you're trying to work.
...
In happier news, I stumbled on a local cache of pretty good tennis players. On one hand, it's kind of flattering that these guys actually thought I was good enough to ask me to play with them. On the other, these dudes are way, way, way better than me. My ego is currently resting in a bowl of ointment and feeding on an opiate drip. I think the worst part was these dudes weren't even trying that hard. They were just stretching their legs before strolling over to meet their wives at the nearby farmer's market. Morning coffee, local produce, stomp on n00bs. Check^3.
Drove down to Monterey, rode bikes, wandered around the seriously scenic Pebble Beach golf course. I'd post pictures if my camera cable wasn't hopelessly lost in a box, somewhere.