A less agreeable decade-ending event

than the previous one but one that had to be done, nonetheless, was replacing Pitr’s system fan, which had started making “my bearing is going out” kind of noises.  (Muffin fans do this; it’s their nature.)  I ran up to Discount Electronics and picked up a used fan (all the kind you can get any more), then came home and started taking Pitr apart . . .

. . . and apart and apart and apart.  The way the fan’s mounted, you have to remove the motherboard to get at it, which means that by the time you’re through, you’ve effectively field-stripped the machine down to its chassis.  So that’s what I did, and got the fan out, and only tried to install the new one upside down once, and spent fifteen or twenty minutes more putting everything back, making sure the twenty or so screws all got back where they belonged.

And I started it up, and the new fan worked just fine, and now I’m using Pitr to post this entry instead of going out anyplace.  L and M, however, have gone to San Marcos to a New Year’ Eve square dance and expect to be back before midnight.

 

This is Billy and Bill’s fnord.

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Daily events at the end of the decade

This afternoon I’m filling the house again with the aroma of Christmas goose, as I boil down the carcasses for stock.  One bird is already done and cooling so I can pick over the bones for whatever scraps are left (more meat gravy, anyone?), and the second is waiting to have its back stripped before it goes into the stock pot with a mirepoix au maigre, ’cos by the time I’m done it’s gonna be a mirepoix au gras.  Making stock also gave me an excuse to get out my big Chinese meat cleaver, which I use maybe a couple of times a year, to break up the carcasses into pieces small enough to go into the stock pot (rough quartering does it).

 

And every fnord she made was, of course, analyzed.

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Ewww . . . nasty . . . .

Today I:

  • scrubbed two bathroom floors on my hands and knees.
  • Scrubbed a bathtub and a toilet, ditto.
  • Scrubbed two bathroom sinks (standing up . . . this is progress?).
  • Crawled under two dressers, two desks, the dining table, an armchair and a china cabinet with whiskbroom, dustpan, and Endust-soaked rags to sweep out months-if-not-years of dust, dirt, cobwebs, and Miscellaneous Filth.  Doing all this while being forced to crawl around in the Miscellaneous Filth I stirred up is not optimal therapy for asthmatics.
  • Cleared, dusted, and organized the Assorted Gunk that lives on top of the little freezer, ’cos we don’t have anyplace else to put it.
  • Ran out of one of the two cans of Comet.
  • Ran out of Endust.

Tomorrow I have to buy more Endust and Comet, get a handful of scrubbers and a couple of mop heads, and start in again under the other living-room chairs, and possibly take down and dust all the bric-a-brac on top of the entertainment centre, and maybe even move the centre and clean out the Miscellaneous Filth under it.

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Late 2010 musical scores

Ewan MacColl & A.L. Lloyd - The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Volume 3 Ewan MacColl & A.L. Lloyd - The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Volume 4
Ewan MacColl & A.L. Lloyd - The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Volume 5 Ewan MacColl & A.L. Lloyd - The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Volume 6
Ewan MacColl & A.L. Lloyd - The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Volume 7 Ewan MacColl & A.L. Lloyd - The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Volume 8

Six of the eight volumes of Ewan MacColl and A. L. Lloyd singing the Child ballads a cappella.  (The entire eight-record set contains 72 of the 305 ballads, my six contain 54 of those 72.)  Anybody who’s listened to ANY of Ye Olde Rocke & Rolles bandes (Fairport, Steeleye, Pentangle, et al.) will recognize Child as the source for a lot of their material, and here you get it without any instrumental intervention, but with a couple of FIERCE accents—MacColl’s Erse and Lloyd’s Welsh.  The entire collection was curated by Kenneth Goldstein, who produced informative lyric booklets to go with the albums (thankfully present in my copies; there’s dialect words in there that even I’m not accustomed to!).

Paul Clayton and the Foc'sle Singers - Foc'sle Songs and Shanties

Paul Clayton was one of the early casualties of the folk movement (it was commonly said he couldn’t cope with being queer in the early Sixties, and killed himself over it in ’67), but he was very highly thought of by other important folk figures; Dylan himself admired Clayton greatly.  This collection finds Clayton working up traditional sea shanties for Folkways’ Moe Asch with a bunch of other Washington Square folkies, including Dave Van Ronk and Bob Brill.

Ry Cooder - Ry Cooder

Ry Cooder’s debut album.  He wasn’t yet as good as he was gonna get (see 1973’s Paradise and Lunch), but pretty formidable already.

Emerson, Lake & Palmer - Tarkus

I bought this one for L, who has a taste for 1970s prog, and Tarkus is nothing if not prog.

Slim Richey - Jazz Grass

This one is a real oddity, but very satisfying.  Slim Richey, then of Fort Worth but now of Austin, gathered up a bunch of hard-core young bluegrass pickers and told them “make some jazz,” so they did.  Their sound is a weird Newgrassy combination of Jethro Burns, Earl Scruggs, and Stéphane Grappelli—but it works.  The recording is notable for containing some of the earliest recordings of Alan Munde and Ricky Skaggs.

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At a lewse end

Two weeks ago I sat down with my direct-report manager to look at leave balances, and it came out that if I didn’t take some serious time off before the end of the year, I was going to hand the Empire back about four days of personal leave and three days of vacation.  (The Empire doesn’t allow you to roll ANY leave—personal or vacation—over from one year to the next.  “Use it or lose it” with a vengeance.)  My manager though it was plain foolish to do that, so he sat me down and reviewed who else on the team would be off when during the holidays, to see if I could use up the leave I had remaining.  (I had previously written off all the leave in my mind, since I hadn’t requested any time off in early November, when I should have done.)

When we finished, it was agreed that I would take off the 16th through the 23rd, and I’ll have less than half a day I have to give back on the 31st.  So I unexpectedly have all this free time in the run-up to Christmas Eve, and if anyone local wants to go do something, call me and we’ll see what we can work out.  M will be home with me starting Monday, but by now she’s old enough not to mind staying home for an hour or two by herself, as long as it’s light and I’m within phone call.

 

Five spells are intended to protect the dead from snakes.  Fnord.

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This weekend

I spent part of this afternoon working with M to make cookies for an exchange her Girl Scout troop is having tomorrow.  She decided she wanted to make chocolate cookies with white-chocolate chips for the exchange, and fortunately the recipe on the package of Nestlé’s white-chocolate chips was for just exactly that, so we worked up a batch and for once, the predicted number of cookies was almost on the mark.  The recipe said it made five dozen, and our final count was just three short of that mark.  Part of the troop leader’s instructions were that the girls had to come up with an original name for their cookies, and M decided hers would be called “White Treasures on Chocolate Island” cookies.  I suggested “Negative Chocolate Cookies,” since the colors were just the inverse of ordinary Toll House, but she liked her own idea better so I deferred to it.

M only needs two dozen cookies for the exchange and was worried about the recipe making five dozen, but I told her not to worry—of all the problems in the world, leftover cookies are one of the smallest, and one that almost always takes care of itself.  And sure enough, in my email this evening there was an appeal from the P-TA for cookies to serve after the kids’ winter celebrations program on Tuesday, so we’ll just send the remainder over to them.  Problem solved.

Before I helped M with the cookies, I ran the lawn mower around the front yard to mulch and suck up all the dead leaves into the grass bag, which was less work than raking and carrying them all to the pens in the back yard.  When I got through, ohmyGOD did the yard look scraped bare!  We haven’t had any rain to mention since Hermine, so the little grass that was left, plus all the chickweed, has all dried up and it’s the most pitiful, miserable, bare-stalked excuse for a lawn you ever saw.  I’ve heard reports that the weather service is predicting another drought year for us in 2011, and I’m afraid they’re right—and what I’m to do about the yard I’m sure I don’t  know.  I think I’ll just have to root-feed the pecans and try to keep them from dying back any more than they have, and let everything else take its chance.  I wish I could figure out some kind of grassy ground cover I could seed down that would be more drought tolerant, but I don’t really know what that would be, and in any case trying to re-establish a lawn during a drought is one with sweeping back the sea with a broom.

I have a whole bunch of leave hours to use up, so I’m taking off from the Empire between the sixteenth and Christmas Eve.  I expect I’ll try to do some Christmas shopping on Thursday and Friday, when I can go where I like without having to account for my time.  L and I are talking of going to the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar to see whether we can find something for my mother besides what we already have.

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Just when you thought it was safe

Another big part of my job these days is the matching and dispatching of reconditioned whole-unit exchanges.  We’ll use refurbs for exchanges when we can, ’cos they’re tons cheaper and faster to dispatch than new-building an equivalent system is (48-hour turnaround when we do it right, versus ten days to two weeks for a new build).  This is a function that had been outsourced to one of our teams in India, but there have been continual complaints about making incorrect matches or failing to make a match ’cos they didn’t understand which system is which one’s descendant, and excessive lead time to get a used dispatch out the door—at times as much as three weeks, which is unconscionable.

So one of my managers (I more or less report to two at once—it’s a weird org chart) has been working for months to get us positioned where we could bring used exchanges in the commercial/public segment back home to Circulith.  I volunteered to be one of the pilots because hey, it was something new I hadn’t ever done before, and I kinda enjoy wading into badly broken processes and making them work again.  The pilot has worked out well, and after the first of the year I expect he’ll start pushing India to stick to doing used exchanges only for the consumer segment, and let us do all the ones for commercial/public.

One drawback to bringing the function home is that the tools we have to use for dispatching refurb systems are antiquated.  One of them is a Windows 3.1-era relic, and another is a home-brewed application for which all the source code has been lost, so what it actually does has become something of a black box, and modifying it to meet changing needs is out of the question.  IT refuses to have anything to do with any of it ’cos none of it is IT-approved, so support is also very hit-and-miss.  Still, it’s all the tools we have, so that’s what we’ve used, and more or less it worked.

Or it worked until yesterday.  Yesterday, suddenly one of the macros in the home-brewed tool started to hang midway through each dispatch.  Another mainframe-based tool went on strike completely, returning “Error in server SEND” messages to anything you tried to do with it.  My counterparts and I, who learned how to operate these tools back when The World Was New and All, managed to work around the dispatching issue by hand (but in a slower, much higher-touch way), and flat ignored the issues with the other app, which isn’t critical to getting systems out the door—it does some internal housekeeping to transfer warranty contracts and such between old and new systems.

The team in India didn’t do nearly so well.  They’d never had to do dispatches by hand—all they knew how to do was to run the macros, which were now broken.  So they couldn’t dispatch anything at all, and the backlog of matched but un-dispatched exchanges began to pile up alarmingly.  Eventually one of them, who has figured out that I’m something of a go-to fix-it guy when stuff goes wrong, IM’d me and asked whether I knew any way to get these backed-up dispatches dispatched.  I said I did, and ended up having a fast con-call-cum-shared-desktop tutorial on how to dispatch a used exchange by hand, at which point I was proclaimed the hero of the day.

However, now I was identified as someone who knew Which Way Went Up with these tools, and someone who could explain clearly what the issues were and what was broken about them from the UI standpoint, and I began getting yanked into these five-way chats with programmers in India, corporate IT dweebs in Brazil, and various odd bods in Circulith.  The chats dragged on and on as people tried this and that patch, and meantime I’m trying desperately to scrub service calls hourly for a special project, cover a different set of dispatches for another team member who’s out all this week, and kick out as many of the backlogged dispatches as I could manage to push.  Eventually someone figured out that some code changes that IT pushed Saturday in our mainframe environment was what had caused all of this, mostly because nobody in IT even knew the tools we use still existed, much less that a major function was depending on them.  At 5:00 (by which point I’m two hours into overtime), we had identified at least two changes that had to be reversed if our tools were to work at all, but no one was sure they could persuade IT the situation was dire enough to undo what they did; they’re all wrapped up in future rollouts and I wouldn’t be surprised to have them try to tell us “sucks to be you” at some point in this mess.

By 6:45, when I clocked out so I wouldn’t go over twelve hours and land in double-time territory, I had pushed out a double fistful of used exchanges, created and dispatched two dozen others of one kind and another, cleared out one queue, and scrubbed the project service calls.  I never did get to the new exchanges I was supposed to set up, and now I’m expecting a huge lump of escalations to hit my desk tomorrow, and I’ll have to drop four other things to take care of them.

I like working where I am at the Empire, but at times like this, with very limited backup for what I do and nobody else willing to cross-train on handling the escalations, it gets overwhelming.

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Back in the exchange business

One BIG part of my job at the Empire is acting as the private escalation team for Logistics:  when they run out of a major part and can’t get more repair stock for weeks or months, they give me lists of customers with open service calls waiting on the back-ordered part, and tell me to call the customers and try to negotiate whole-unit exchanges.  If I can get the customer to agree, I order the replacement systems and then case-manage them until we get to a final resolution.

Getting a customer to agree to an exchange can be harder than you might first think.  Sometimes the customers are corporate IT techs or managers, who don’t like the idea of having to break consistency on their fleets of dozens or hundreds of identical systems just because we can’t get a part, and they’ll totally balk at the idea of having one or two oddballs to have to support.  Others don’t object to the idea of an exchange in the abstract, but they have ancillary parts—docks, car power adapters, monitor stands (which only fit specific docks), and so on—and those have to be exchanged as well.  This can get BLOODY ’spensive if we’re talking about police squad-car docking cradles, which are obscenely pricey, and none of which we make ourselves, so I can end up having to eat more than $1,000 in third-party part exchanges just to get to “yes” on a single system.  Multiply that by a dozen units at a go, and we’re talking about serious money.  Still, there are times when eating a thousand dollars over and above the cost of the system exchange is preferable to having a large corporate customer with dozens of machines down for months on end.  And then there are the customers who just try to chisel you for anything they can get.  Those you just have to sit on, firmly.

The one part that has driven my professional existence this year is the screen for our semi-rugged portable, which is prone to have the adhesive that holds the screen together break down under prolonged heat (like being driven around in a squad car all day for a couple of years) and begin oozing out round the edges of the screen, so our failure rate has been lots higher than it should have been.  We’ve been out of them for months on end, and the manufacturer keeps shorting shipments and making excuses instead of screens.  At any given time since last May, I’ve had fifteen to thirty open cases, with customers waiting two weeks for the factory to build replacement units (and that’s expedited ahead of ordinary-run orders).  But in late October, we got a huge shipment of screens, and Logistics stood me down from issuing any more exchanges.

Until today, that is.  Today I got an email from my contact in Logistics, telling me that we were out of semi-rugged screens again, that we were back on mandatory exchanges indefinitely for LCD issues in that model, and that he’d be sending me a new list of people to call later this week.

Dammit, I was enjoying not having to horse-trade with customers every day.  But I’m back at it, until ghu knows when.  And because, while the exchanges were quiet, I had taken on a couple of other projects that won’t wind up for several more weeks, I’m going to be effin’ buried.  My immediate goal is to survive until the 15th, after which I get to take off until after Christmas.

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A pair of seasonal videos


A flash mob performs the “Hallelujah” chorus at a mall food court in Niagara Falls


Annie Lennox singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” with some very traditional additions

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Departure of the POD people

So over the weekend, with help from Butterfly, the last of the Stuph from the pod came back into the house, and the thing itself is scheduled for pickup tomorrow by the company we rented it from.  (Incidentally, I’ll say that I was very satisfied with them, and wouldn’t mind giving a recommendation for anyone in the Megapolis who might need such a thing.)  The impending pickup meant I also had to get out tonight and clean off the graffiti left by the neighborhood taggers, and I’ll note that Klean-Strip graffiti remover does an awesome job of taking that crap off—without ruining the underlying painted surfaces in the process.

With the pod going back whence it came, I can declare the roof project to be Officially Over.  There are still we haven’t got done (re-mud the sewing room walls, paint the sewing room), but for all practical purposes it’s done with, and my neighbors get to have back the chunk of 47th Street that I’ve monopolized with it ever since May.  And I get rid of that $107 hole the rent was knocking in the household budget every month.

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