So we're several episodes into the new season of Top Chef, and no one who has gone home has not deserved to go, especially in recent weeks, as we've had a chance to see people work over a couple of episodes. It's interesting to see how people's foibles seem to leak out in spite of the editing, and probably a bit because of the editing, but still. For example, it's becoming clear that Michael I. is a twerp who has an incredibly inflated sense of his abilities, in addition to being a sexist asshole--in an early ep, he noted that there was no way a girl should be even with him--hey, asshole, the women aren't cooking with their ladyparts, and you're not cooking WITH your dick, you ARE a dick; there's a difference. The Voltaggio brothers know their shit; they may stumble occasionally, but there isn't a major fail.
They're setting Robin up to get rid of her, or at least I hope they are, but last night was brutal, too. For one thing, they started the episode by having everyone talk about how she's been lucky and she really doesn't belong there. Know what, people? If that's true, then eventually she'll fuck up worse than everyone else. She's been saved so far--her drunken shrimp was hideous, but Mattin's raw fish that made people sick was far, far worse; last night, she managed to win the quickfire, so she had immunity, plus Ron's dish was really bad--but only because someone else has been worse. And one of the cheftestants (sorry, Larry) basically said she won the quickfire by mentioning that she'd had cancer to the judges. Which, seriously, is over the top rude. Does he really think the judges are so stupid that they'd be taken in by that? On the other hand, as the episode unrolls, it becomes clear that she is annoying the shit out of everyone, mostly by narrating everything she's doing, which, yeah, that would make me a bit crazy, too. Also, because she has immunity for the elimination challenge, she claims she's going to just try to do a great job and play with it, but she really doesn't do anything interesting. So, no, I'm not convinced she belongs there; the question is whether they get rid of her or Mike I. first. Or maybe they guy who insisted on bringing his own pressure cooker, and taping it together because the baggage handlers screwed it up, and then it exploded in the kitchen (!!), which, sorry, would also piss me right the fuck off. A chatterer is annoying, but an exploding pressure cooker can maim or kill someone, and that basic disregard for one's fellows is even worse.
Last night's challenge was interesting; each of them had to "deconstruct" a classic dish. On one hand, several of the chefs had no clue what it meant to deconstruct a dish, despite what appeared to be some brief instruction about that. A couple of others--most notably Jen, I think--understood the concept but didn't actually do any of that, because they worked in a place that focused on doing the classics AS classics. Mostly notably, Mike I. had no fucking clue what "florentine" meant. He was supposed to do eggs florentine, and he kept calling it "eggs new-to-me," which is just not very funny. And I think he even had to be told that it included spinach, which kind of blew me away; does he really not know that "florentine" = "has spinach in it"? I suppose I can forgive him for not knowing the back story of that--what with Florence, Italy and the Medicis and all--but to not seem to know that basic fact is more evidence of what an ass he is.
The other thing was how Jen was completely stressing about her deconstructed meat lasagna--as the episode was going on, I was actually coming up with a deconstructed version of that in my head, perhaps because I've made it a million times. I would have had more trouble with some of the others (and, oh, wait, I'm not actually good enough to be a contestant on this show). I was also (probably inordinately) pleased that several of the elements in her final version were in the neighborhood of what I was thinking. Actually, her final dish is also a good example of one of the two reasons I'm not TC material: yes, I would have done homemade pasta; yes, I would have done the meat separately; yes, i would have done a simple tomato sauce, though maybe a different one than she did--but that whole crispy parmesan thing? Not so much, and it sounded as though that really made the dish work. Also, my mom never did a bechamel sauce in her lasagna, but we did do ricotta, so I don't know if that would make a difference.
The other reason that I'm not TC material is that these guys have practically no time to come up with and make this stuff, which, if you're going to work a hot line in a restaurant, you damn well better be able to do. I've gotten much more efficient in the kitchen, but I'm still not a line cook and I'm not well-suited to doing that. Some of the shit that gets thrown on a plate is kinda eh, especially because we're still early in the season, but they have a much wider selection of techniques and recipes (especially sauces) in their heads than I have.
Still, my main criticism of the show remains. I think a dish only comes together after a few iterations, with critiques and notes along the way. The ability of the Volt bros. and Jen to put incredible things out without that is evidence of their skills, for sure; it's a useful technique for separating the hacks from the good cooks. But as the season goes on, I think it would be more instructive to see how they would utilize that iterative process to kick the dish up to the next level.
For the concert report, I have to note that the Bruce concert was one of the two or three best shows I've ever seen; I've seen him 25 or 30 times, and this was incredible. As I'd suspected (and hoped), the people who were most likely to show up were people who were excited at the thought of Bruce playing Born to Run straight through--something he's never done before. (The other night he said they'd done it once, way back in the day, in Red Bank, NJ.) And, in fact, that's who was there: long-time devoted fans, which exponentially increased the energy of the whole thing. Bruce has always fed off of that, too, and this show was hell-bent-for-leather straight out of the box and then all the way through, for three solid hours. So, yay for that.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Summarily We Roll Along
I am getting some acupuncture tomorrow, and I very much hope that it helps. I've had sacroiliac joint issues for . . . nearly two years, now? Lordy. Sometimes it nearly goes away completely, for hours or days at a time; other times I can barely move, and the past two days have featured episodes of that, complete with pain around into my groin and down my leg. Usually if I sit down it improves, but tonight not so much; the two days of baking, plus the stress and lack of sleep and running around during the same two days, probably all have something to do with the severity of the pain tonight. I know--partly from my researches into these things--that the best thing I could do for it is probably regular yoga and regular exercise, and I am doing neither of those. It's been nearly three weeks since I worked out last (though there have been episodes of long and brisk walks), and we're not even going to discuss yoga, because that will make me annoyed with myself.
Today, well, today started with the fire and it didn't improve much over the course of the day; more like "improved not at all, and got worse in several dimensions, particularly the one where the phrase 'summarily terminated' would be applicable." (It wasn't me that was terminated, I hasten to note.) So, yeah. And several meetings, while we're at it, including one in which I was informed, by BB, with about an hour's notice, that I would be providing a majority of the content and s/he would be attending the meeting, primarily to inquire about that content; no pressure there!
The only bright spots are the desserts, which look pretty good, so I'm hoping some actual monies are raised by these efforts. I have to get up tomorrow and make cream cheese frosting for the carrot cakes, but that shouldn't take very long. The mini smores tarts worked pretty well; I ended up using a ganache from school that's actually supposed to be a filling for a dipped chocolate. I'm a little worried that it's not quite sweet enough, and I couldn't torch the meringue on top (because my torch doesn't have any butane and I don't have an acetylene or propane torch), so I dusted with cocoa powder.
Hmmm. I had italian meringue (for the smores) left over, so I piped it onto a silpat, turned the oven down, and threw the pan in. I'm now nibbling on the slightly browned, chewy meringue bit and realizing I should have just piped a bunch of those and plopped them on top of the ganache. Oh well; I'll remember that for next time. Meanwhile, the oven was on because i was going to roast the beets I bought at the market on Saturday; no, that didn't happen, nor did I eat the corn from Saturday, nor have I eaten the lovely raspberries or peaches.
But--this Sunday? Bruce!
Today, well, today started with the fire and it didn't improve much over the course of the day; more like "improved not at all, and got worse in several dimensions, particularly the one where the phrase 'summarily terminated' would be applicable." (It wasn't me that was terminated, I hasten to note.) So, yeah. And several meetings, while we're at it, including one in which I was informed, by BB, with about an hour's notice, that I would be providing a majority of the content and s/he would be attending the meeting, primarily to inquire about that content; no pressure there!
The only bright spots are the desserts, which look pretty good, so I'm hoping some actual monies are raised by these efforts. I have to get up tomorrow and make cream cheese frosting for the carrot cakes, but that shouldn't take very long. The mini smores tarts worked pretty well; I ended up using a ganache from school that's actually supposed to be a filling for a dipped chocolate. I'm a little worried that it's not quite sweet enough, and I couldn't torch the meringue on top (because my torch doesn't have any butane and I don't have an acetylene or propane torch), so I dusted with cocoa powder.
Hmmm. I had italian meringue (for the smores) left over, so I piped it onto a silpat, turned the oven down, and threw the pan in. I'm now nibbling on the slightly browned, chewy meringue bit and realizing I should have just piped a bunch of those and plopped them on top of the ganache. Oh well; I'll remember that for next time. Meanwhile, the oven was on because i was going to roast the beets I bought at the market on Saturday; no, that didn't happen, nor did I eat the corn from Saturday, nor have I eaten the lovely raspberries or peaches.
But--this Sunday? Bruce!
Because Nothing Says Excitement Like Fire
So I couldn't sleep this morning, despite my best efforts. I got up and wandered into the living room and thought, hmmm, smells like smoke. I wandered into the kitchen, checked the pilot light, whatever; nothing. Smelled it again. Looked out into the courtyard and realized that there were flames in an apartment on the 5th floor. I watched for a second to make sure it wasn't candles or something, and then I called the fire department, put some clothes on, grabbed my phone and wallet, and got ready to leave. By then I could see someone fiddling with the flames or charred remains or whatever, and tried to call off the FD, but I could hear the sirens, so I went downstairs to greet them, as instructed.
Three trucks, possibly more, showed up, along with some cops and a battalion-chief type vehicle. I ended up bringing them into the courtyard to show them the window, and, oh, two dozen firefighters trudged up the stairs.
Turns out that some guy had a trash fire--and another woman had seen it, too, and had gone down to pound on his door and wake him up (!) and he put it out. The firefighters ended up checking all the stairwells and elevators and such, which impressed me with their thoroughness, even though it appeared to be pretty clear what had happened. And I caught someone say something about a "high-rise fire," which explains the four trucks, i.e., there are nine floors to my building, so something more drastic might well have needed that kind of response.
I felt a little silly, on one hand, for having called it in, but, in retrospect, it was the right thing to do. (Suppose he hadn't been home? Or the woman hadn't been able to wake him? Or the windows hadn't been open so I could smell the smoke?)
Though, admittedly, a bit more adrenaline than I really wanted at 5:15 in the morning.
Three trucks, possibly more, showed up, along with some cops and a battalion-chief type vehicle. I ended up bringing them into the courtyard to show them the window, and, oh, two dozen firefighters trudged up the stairs.
Turns out that some guy had a trash fire--and another woman had seen it, too, and had gone down to pound on his door and wake him up (!) and he put it out. The firefighters ended up checking all the stairwells and elevators and such, which impressed me with their thoroughness, even though it appeared to be pretty clear what had happened. And I caught someone say something about a "high-rise fire," which explains the four trucks, i.e., there are nine floors to my building, so something more drastic might well have needed that kind of response.
I felt a little silly, on one hand, for having called it in, but, in retrospect, it was the right thing to do. (Suppose he hadn't been home? Or the woman hadn't been able to wake him? Or the windows hadn't been open so I could smell the smoke?)
Though, admittedly, a bit more adrenaline than I really wanted at 5:15 in the morning.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Five Minutes
I've written here before about how having worked in the bakery has improved my time management, and I continue to be struck by the truth of that. I ended up not being able to take off today, after all, but Friend and I didn't go out tonight, so I came home a little early, took the butter out of the fridge to soften, then called a friend to discuss the latest complete fucking insanity at work (yes, a whole new thing, and I can't discuss this one even more). I finally got down to work by 5:30 or so, and in about four hours I was able to make about 90 peanut butter/chocolate chip cookies, about 100 mini carrot cakes, and 48 graham cracker crusts for the mini smores. At the moment, the dishwasher is running and the rest of the dishes are clean and in the rack. Plus, I had three phone conversations while I was working, with Friend, GirlFriend, and Bossman.
I think what it comes down to is that production work gives one more of a sense of what can be accomplished in 5 minutes, or 12 minutes, or 22 minutes. Brazen Tart has a much (much much) better sense of this than I do, because she has to produce things for people who are sitting at tables waiting for their elaborately plated desserts to appear, but the point remains the same.
The other thing that school and the bakery provided was an introduction to techniques and tools that speed the work in an assortment of ways. Remember those pastry bags I snagged from OldBoss on Friday? I used one to splooge the carrot cake batter into the tins, which turned a 10- or 15-minute job into a 2-minute job. Once the first two tins were in the oven, I refilled the bag and had it ready for the next batch, then washed up some dishes. When I put the cream cheese frosting on? And the chocolate ganache in the smores, and the italian meringue for the topping? Same type of bag. I'd certainly heard of them before, but the ones that you can get in the grocery store, say, are these teeny little things that aren't good for a damned thing. My piping skills are still pretty rudimentary--it's not like it's something I use daily--and I can't decorate for shit, but even the basic skills I have make things go so much more quickly.
The other thing that two years of production did was hone the ability to think a couple of steps ahead: as I'm doing this (relatively mindless) task, I'm planning the next two or three. Of course, I do that in all of the jobs I do, but this kind of production is a different environment, and type of task is different. I think what I'm trying to say is that in a bakery production environment, there are many sequential tasks, but they tend to be short, and not all of them have time requirements attached.
For example, Artie could make a couple of racks of muffins, but Phil didn't have to bake them immediately (Phil mostly ran the ovens on the day shift), i.e., they could sit for a while if something else was in the ovens. Once they were baked, they had to cool a bit, and eventually be taken out of the tins and put on trays, but they didn't have to get into the freezer immediately. Yeast doughs have to proof, but that can be slowed down by refrigeration or speeded up a bit by putting it in the proof box (basically a big steel box that holds two huge oven-size racks--two full sheet pans per shelf--and that can have steam added), at least up to a point. Once you've got fermentation or baking going, or laminated croissant dough in the reach-in freezers, for that matter, you've got a timer involved, and you have to stay on top of it, but part of the dance of the bakery was balancing all those bits, the thinking ahead that I was noting above.
Again, I'm a relative amateur at this (compared to the Tart or OldBoss, the latter of whom has been doing it for, oh, 35 years or more), but even two years made a difference. And it has carried over somewhat into my office job, in that I can hold a lot more in my head than many people seem to be able to do. Seriously--and I'm trying to not be immodest here--I can probably do the work of two people, not because I'm Ms. Superperson, but because of that type of multitasking.
The frustrating thing, though, is that it sets new, and very high, expectations, except they're expectations that pretty much only apply to me. Which means when Bossman comes into my office and wants yet another thing, because his boss is sending snippy emails about it, I end up asking which of the other 15 things on my list he wants me to move aside to do that thing. And he gets pissy when I ask that question, but the question remains, and, more to the current point, it's me that he continues to ask for these things, in part because they've morphed into My Job, but in part because he knows I'm the one who will actually manage to get things done.
I'm about to devolve into whining, and I'm not particularly in a whining mood (despite the drama of this week). I will also note that the U2 concerts were extremely fun and good, though they took a toll on my sleep. So do I go to bed early tonight to help make up for it? Apparently not . . .
I think what it comes down to is that production work gives one more of a sense of what can be accomplished in 5 minutes, or 12 minutes, or 22 minutes. Brazen Tart has a much (much much) better sense of this than I do, because she has to produce things for people who are sitting at tables waiting for their elaborately plated desserts to appear, but the point remains the same.
The other thing that school and the bakery provided was an introduction to techniques and tools that speed the work in an assortment of ways. Remember those pastry bags I snagged from OldBoss on Friday? I used one to splooge the carrot cake batter into the tins, which turned a 10- or 15-minute job into a 2-minute job. Once the first two tins were in the oven, I refilled the bag and had it ready for the next batch, then washed up some dishes. When I put the cream cheese frosting on? And the chocolate ganache in the smores, and the italian meringue for the topping? Same type of bag. I'd certainly heard of them before, but the ones that you can get in the grocery store, say, are these teeny little things that aren't good for a damned thing. My piping skills are still pretty rudimentary--it's not like it's something I use daily--and I can't decorate for shit, but even the basic skills I have make things go so much more quickly.
The other thing that two years of production did was hone the ability to think a couple of steps ahead: as I'm doing this (relatively mindless) task, I'm planning the next two or three. Of course, I do that in all of the jobs I do, but this kind of production is a different environment, and type of task is different. I think what I'm trying to say is that in a bakery production environment, there are many sequential tasks, but they tend to be short, and not all of them have time requirements attached.
For example, Artie could make a couple of racks of muffins, but Phil didn't have to bake them immediately (Phil mostly ran the ovens on the day shift), i.e., they could sit for a while if something else was in the ovens. Once they were baked, they had to cool a bit, and eventually be taken out of the tins and put on trays, but they didn't have to get into the freezer immediately. Yeast doughs have to proof, but that can be slowed down by refrigeration or speeded up a bit by putting it in the proof box (basically a big steel box that holds two huge oven-size racks--two full sheet pans per shelf--and that can have steam added), at least up to a point. Once you've got fermentation or baking going, or laminated croissant dough in the reach-in freezers, for that matter, you've got a timer involved, and you have to stay on top of it, but part of the dance of the bakery was balancing all those bits, the thinking ahead that I was noting above.
Again, I'm a relative amateur at this (compared to the Tart or OldBoss, the latter of whom has been doing it for, oh, 35 years or more), but even two years made a difference. And it has carried over somewhat into my office job, in that I can hold a lot more in my head than many people seem to be able to do. Seriously--and I'm trying to not be immodest here--I can probably do the work of two people, not because I'm Ms. Superperson, but because of that type of multitasking.
The frustrating thing, though, is that it sets new, and very high, expectations, except they're expectations that pretty much only apply to me. Which means when Bossman comes into my office and wants yet another thing, because his boss is sending snippy emails about it, I end up asking which of the other 15 things on my list he wants me to move aside to do that thing. And he gets pissy when I ask that question, but the question remains, and, more to the current point, it's me that he continues to ask for these things, in part because they've morphed into My Job, but in part because he knows I'm the one who will actually manage to get things done.
I'm about to devolve into whining, and I'm not particularly in a whining mood (despite the drama of this week). I will also note that the U2 concerts were extremely fun and good, though they took a toll on my sleep. So do I go to bed early tonight to help make up for it? Apparently not . . .
Friday, September 11, 2009
Shiny Buttons, Plus Baking Chatter
So I'm slogging along (after a trip to the bakery for pastry bags and a chat with Bossman, and a trip to Whole Paycheck for some more stock for the upcoming bakeathon (more on that in a minute), so I'm fully laden). I reach a patch of sidewalk where someone is, yes, watering the sidewalk (and the grass on the far side, of course, but nevertheless). This is a Big Shiny Button. Worse, s/he has strung yellow caution tape around the grass, presumably to keep people from walking on it. I step over the tape, onto the grass--because I do not feel like dodging the sprinkler while lugging aforementioned groceries--and this guy standing there behind the gate in front of the building, talking on his cellphone, says, excuse me ma'am, can you not walk on the grass?
"Well," I say, "then don't water the sidewalk!"
He responds, "I didn't do it! And there's $2,000 worth of new grass there!!"
And I say, "I really don't give a shit; don't water the sidewalk!" and keep going, much to his foot-stamping annoyance ("Did you hear that??" he says to the phone.)
Dude: if you're standing there, behind the fence, telling people not to walk on your precious expensive grass, then you can't deny all knowledge of or responsibility for the water that is watering said grass, and the sidewalk as well, and you really should NOT WATER THE SIDEWALK. It was an inconvenience for me, but how about for someone who's elderly, or using a mobility device, or blind? Are they supposed to make a mad dash to avoid the sprinkler? Go all the way back down the block to cross to the other side? What? And, hey, if your grass is so damned precious, then shouldn't you be bringing bottles of distilled water and sprinkling it drop by drop on those individual blades?
Anyway, the bakeathon is for a bake sale at work. Yeah, I know, sounds a bit like the PTA, don't it? I'd managed to negotiate a day to work at home to actually do the baking, because I'm going to make several things, but if things go as they usually do, then I'll end up going in for at least part of the day. The plan regarding what I'm going to bake keeps changing (I realize that is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows me even a little), but is likely to include peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, mini s'mores tarts (graham cracker crust, chocolate ganache, italian meringue), and either mini carrot cakes or carrot cupcakes, with cream cheese frosting. I'd originally thought minis for the carrot cakes, but now I'm thinking it might be a better idea to do cupcakes. Two additional possibilities are cookies that utilize the malted barley syrup in the fridge (I'm thinking of replacing the sugar in a basic sugar cookie or a honey cookie with that, and possibly adding either some malted milk or some Ovaltine to enhance the maltiness), possibly with a milk chocolate glaze of some kind, and molasses crumb muffins (my mom has a great shoo-fly pie recipe, and I'm thinking I could just use the filling for that as a start).
My Ambitious plan involved working out tonight (something I have not done for 2+ weeks) AND beginning the baking, perhaps making the cookies, even!, because they will keep until Thursday. Not surprisingly, I went for the Not-Ambitious-At-All plan, which involved opening a bottle of wine, wiping off the counter, and moving all of the dry ingredients to that spot, then drinking some wine and eating some cheese and crackers. I did develop another plan--for tomorrow morning, so no wine will be involved--that is limited to going to the farmers' market, doing a load or two of laundry, and scaling all the dry ingredients for my various recipes. If there's still time, baking could occur, but having everything scaled and organized will already speed things along. After that, though, it's U2: for Saturday AND for Sunday. I did not used to like them much, but they've grown on me over the years, so I'm looking forward to it.
So today, while chatting with CurrentBoss about the latest clusterfuck situation (oh yes, something ELSE has happened, and, again, no details will come forth; at least this doesn't involve me) and snagging some chocolate from his office stash (peanut butter cups, if you must know; the mini Snickers and Baby Ruth and Butterfinger don't do anything for me), I realized something, which I shared with him.
His boss holds this set of meetings each month: first, BB has all of his/her senior managers come meet, and they Discuss Important Things. After an hour, s/he has the next level down join the meeting (with the senior managers remaining for this second meeting); this level includes me. The meeting is tedious and boring and I find it to be a waste of time--and, it turns out, about 80% of the meeting content is a repeat of the first hour. Yes, BB has the senior managers sit through the same stuff twice.
This would blow me away with the waste (let's do the math on the salaries in the room, shall we?) all on its own, I suspect, but, as noted to CurrentBoss--and, later, to Bossman--today, it's particularly jarring for me after coming out of the bakery environment as my most recent previous job. The notion that one would take one's senior staff and take them away from getting things done to tell them the same stuff twice in two hours, for no discernible reason (why not start w/ the big group, and then dismiss us lower people, and finish with the stuff for the senior level only?), is just mind-boggling. As I said to CurrentBoss, around bites of Reese's, in the bakery, a conversation with the boss took place across the work table, as I was cutting croissant dough, or making tarts, or whatthefuckever, and he was scaling dough for something, and Phil was loading the oven, and Artie was doing mixing cookies in the background. (Or, as Bossman put it, when a baker says I'll do it now, s/he does it now; in an office, "now" means "I'll get around to it by Tuesday next week, maybe.")
I might have some Deep Thoughts on that, but they'll have to wait. I won't even manage the Saturday Plan if i don't go to bed.
"Well," I say, "then don't water the sidewalk!"
He responds, "I didn't do it! And there's $2,000 worth of new grass there!!"
And I say, "I really don't give a shit; don't water the sidewalk!" and keep going, much to his foot-stamping annoyance ("Did you hear that??" he says to the phone.)
Dude: if you're standing there, behind the fence, telling people not to walk on your precious expensive grass, then you can't deny all knowledge of or responsibility for the water that is watering said grass, and the sidewalk as well, and you really should NOT WATER THE SIDEWALK. It was an inconvenience for me, but how about for someone who's elderly, or using a mobility device, or blind? Are they supposed to make a mad dash to avoid the sprinkler? Go all the way back down the block to cross to the other side? What? And, hey, if your grass is so damned precious, then shouldn't you be bringing bottles of distilled water and sprinkling it drop by drop on those individual blades?
Anyway, the bakeathon is for a bake sale at work. Yeah, I know, sounds a bit like the PTA, don't it? I'd managed to negotiate a day to work at home to actually do the baking, because I'm going to make several things, but if things go as they usually do, then I'll end up going in for at least part of the day. The plan regarding what I'm going to bake keeps changing (I realize that is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows me even a little), but is likely to include peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, mini s'mores tarts (graham cracker crust, chocolate ganache, italian meringue), and either mini carrot cakes or carrot cupcakes, with cream cheese frosting. I'd originally thought minis for the carrot cakes, but now I'm thinking it might be a better idea to do cupcakes. Two additional possibilities are cookies that utilize the malted barley syrup in the fridge (I'm thinking of replacing the sugar in a basic sugar cookie or a honey cookie with that, and possibly adding either some malted milk or some Ovaltine to enhance the maltiness), possibly with a milk chocolate glaze of some kind, and molasses crumb muffins (my mom has a great shoo-fly pie recipe, and I'm thinking I could just use the filling for that as a start).
My Ambitious plan involved working out tonight (something I have not done for 2+ weeks) AND beginning the baking, perhaps making the cookies, even!, because they will keep until Thursday. Not surprisingly, I went for the Not-Ambitious-At-All plan, which involved opening a bottle of wine, wiping off the counter, and moving all of the dry ingredients to that spot, then drinking some wine and eating some cheese and crackers. I did develop another plan--for tomorrow morning, so no wine will be involved--that is limited to going to the farmers' market, doing a load or two of laundry, and scaling all the dry ingredients for my various recipes. If there's still time, baking could occur, but having everything scaled and organized will already speed things along. After that, though, it's U2: for Saturday AND for Sunday. I did not used to like them much, but they've grown on me over the years, so I'm looking forward to it.
So today, while chatting with CurrentBoss about the latest clusterfuck situation (oh yes, something ELSE has happened, and, again, no details will come forth; at least this doesn't involve me) and snagging some chocolate from his office stash (peanut butter cups, if you must know; the mini Snickers and Baby Ruth and Butterfinger don't do anything for me), I realized something, which I shared with him.
His boss holds this set of meetings each month: first, BB has all of his/her senior managers come meet, and they Discuss Important Things. After an hour, s/he has the next level down join the meeting (with the senior managers remaining for this second meeting); this level includes me. The meeting is tedious and boring and I find it to be a waste of time--and, it turns out, about 80% of the meeting content is a repeat of the first hour. Yes, BB has the senior managers sit through the same stuff twice.
This would blow me away with the waste (let's do the math on the salaries in the room, shall we?) all on its own, I suspect, but, as noted to CurrentBoss--and, later, to Bossman--today, it's particularly jarring for me after coming out of the bakery environment as my most recent previous job. The notion that one would take one's senior staff and take them away from getting things done to tell them the same stuff twice in two hours, for no discernible reason (why not start w/ the big group, and then dismiss us lower people, and finish with the stuff for the senior level only?), is just mind-boggling. As I said to CurrentBoss, around bites of Reese's, in the bakery, a conversation with the boss took place across the work table, as I was cutting croissant dough, or making tarts, or whatthefuckever, and he was scaling dough for something, and Phil was loading the oven, and Artie was doing mixing cookies in the background. (Or, as Bossman put it, when a baker says I'll do it now, s/he does it now; in an office, "now" means "I'll get around to it by Tuesday next week, maybe.")
I might have some Deep Thoughts on that, but they'll have to wait. I won't even manage the Saturday Plan if i don't go to bed.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Gimme, Gimme, Gimme; Want, Want, Want
I was able to relax over the weekend, and I even took off on Friday, but I was fooling myself thinking that the Big Pain Crunch was over; alas, September is going to be full of crap, too. It becomes more complicated, and more work, because it turns out that a coworker is a sneaking snake who likes to make shit up and tell these tales at higher levels. it also turns out that someone in this array (I'm being purposefully vague) apparently has difficulty distinguishing between a pile of dogshit and a pile of yummy chocolate truffles, and we are going to have to spend some time educating this person about the goodness of the truffles (and hope that the criteria one might use to distinguish truffles from dogshit might rub off on this person, but that is likely a vain hope).
Larry suggested, in a private comment, that he thought my heart wasn't really in my work, and that turns out to be complicated. Oddly enough, I actually enjoy many of these tasks, and, in some ways, I appreciate the tasks involved with dealing with people who are Difficult, because it challenges me to become better--more patient, more understanding, less quick to snap. These are not easy challenges for me, as you might imagine, but I'm finding that I like them nevertheless. Which is not to say that the challenges are easy-peasy, or that I particularly enjoy realizing that I'm saying something dumb/snappish/wrong, for which I will need to apologize or that I will need to fix, but still can't seem to make my mouth shut up, but still.
And, again, here're two of the things I still miss about teaching, which perhaps gets at the heart of what Larry is observing: first, I cannot actually teach. That is, I do, in fact, have to educate people, but some of it must be done sort of surreptitiously; I can't simply put together a syllabus, and have discussions, and assign papers, and grade them, and so on. And if the people do not want to learn? Well, they are in positions such that I cannot fail them, or stop dealing with them, or whatever; I must continue to slog along. Sometimes, their failure to learn creates an obstacle for me, which sucks. Second, I very much miss the opportunity to do work that interests me deeply. Yes, I'm getting to do some analyses, and I get to apply a kind of intellectual and analytic rigor to subjects that have not heretofore undergone such analyses, and I get to try to explain things in ways that make sense to other people (who have varying abilities and inclinations to understand) . . . but that's not nearly the same as doing research on and writing about topics that are of interest to me.
That last point gets at a crucial difference between my fantasy job(s) and my actual job. I recognize that everyone, or nearly everyone, has to answer to someone, some group, some hierarchy, and that many managers, including those in academia, can be better or worse. It's not as though tenured faculty are freeeee! and can do as they please, or even, at least at all but a handful of schools, teach whatever they please. It may even be the case that one is required to teach courses that aren't particularly interesting or are loathsome in some way.
But, and it's a crucial but, the hierarchy isn't going to tell you what problems you much solve in your research work. If your work is on 19th-century British novels, you will not be instructed to, or ordered to, or need to, write and publish a paper on econometrics. You may conceivably become interested in econometrics and decide to learn about it and, eventually, write on it, but that will be driven by your interests and choices. I, on the other hand, cannot spend my working hours on problems that truly interest me or, on bad days, even engage me all that much. I enjoy the challenge of making a complicated financial and service-provision picture clear; I can sometimes enjoy the writing, if it's not too dull; I even enjoy simplifying and codifying processes in ways that make things run more smoothly or efficiently. The fact that I do get enjoyment is no small thing--but the problems I solve are not the problems that truly interest me.
I feel a bit bad for saying that, because so many people are unemployed, or stuck in jobs that are tedious beyond belief, or doing work that is boring and dull and likely low paying. But feeling grateful that my situation is better than many people's situations does not make mine an interesting job. Overall, I get to solve problems, in more or less interesting ways; I get to apply my talents to help other people who are in much worse shape; and I get (relatively speaking) well-compensated for these tasks, so it could be oh-so-much worse. (I could be lugging 50-pound sacks of flour, for $10/hour, for example.) And some days I feel like I'm actually doing something worthwhile, insofar as anything we do has any worth.
So there you have it: yes, better, or even good, in many, many ways. And still not enough. Having a bowl of ice cream, and being extremely grateful one has ice cream, does not eliminate the desire for hot fudge sauce.
Larry suggested, in a private comment, that he thought my heart wasn't really in my work, and that turns out to be complicated. Oddly enough, I actually enjoy many of these tasks, and, in some ways, I appreciate the tasks involved with dealing with people who are Difficult, because it challenges me to become better--more patient, more understanding, less quick to snap. These are not easy challenges for me, as you might imagine, but I'm finding that I like them nevertheless. Which is not to say that the challenges are easy-peasy, or that I particularly enjoy realizing that I'm saying something dumb/snappish/wrong, for which I will need to apologize or that I will need to fix, but still can't seem to make my mouth shut up, but still.
And, again, here're two of the things I still miss about teaching, which perhaps gets at the heart of what Larry is observing: first, I cannot actually teach. That is, I do, in fact, have to educate people, but some of it must be done sort of surreptitiously; I can't simply put together a syllabus, and have discussions, and assign papers, and grade them, and so on. And if the people do not want to learn? Well, they are in positions such that I cannot fail them, or stop dealing with them, or whatever; I must continue to slog along. Sometimes, their failure to learn creates an obstacle for me, which sucks. Second, I very much miss the opportunity to do work that interests me deeply. Yes, I'm getting to do some analyses, and I get to apply a kind of intellectual and analytic rigor to subjects that have not heretofore undergone such analyses, and I get to try to explain things in ways that make sense to other people (who have varying abilities and inclinations to understand) . . . but that's not nearly the same as doing research on and writing about topics that are of interest to me.
That last point gets at a crucial difference between my fantasy job(s) and my actual job. I recognize that everyone, or nearly everyone, has to answer to someone, some group, some hierarchy, and that many managers, including those in academia, can be better or worse. It's not as though tenured faculty are freeeee! and can do as they please, or even, at least at all but a handful of schools, teach whatever they please. It may even be the case that one is required to teach courses that aren't particularly interesting or are loathsome in some way.
But, and it's a crucial but, the hierarchy isn't going to tell you what problems you much solve in your research work. If your work is on 19th-century British novels, you will not be instructed to, or ordered to, or need to, write and publish a paper on econometrics. You may conceivably become interested in econometrics and decide to learn about it and, eventually, write on it, but that will be driven by your interests and choices. I, on the other hand, cannot spend my working hours on problems that truly interest me or, on bad days, even engage me all that much. I enjoy the challenge of making a complicated financial and service-provision picture clear; I can sometimes enjoy the writing, if it's not too dull; I even enjoy simplifying and codifying processes in ways that make things run more smoothly or efficiently. The fact that I do get enjoyment is no small thing--but the problems I solve are not the problems that truly interest me.
I feel a bit bad for saying that, because so many people are unemployed, or stuck in jobs that are tedious beyond belief, or doing work that is boring and dull and likely low paying. But feeling grateful that my situation is better than many people's situations does not make mine an interesting job. Overall, I get to solve problems, in more or less interesting ways; I get to apply my talents to help other people who are in much worse shape; and I get (relatively speaking) well-compensated for these tasks, so it could be oh-so-much worse. (I could be lugging 50-pound sacks of flour, for $10/hour, for example.) And some days I feel like I'm actually doing something worthwhile, insofar as anything we do has any worth.
So there you have it: yes, better, or even good, in many, many ways. And still not enough. Having a bowl of ice cream, and being extremely grateful one has ice cream, does not eliminate the desire for hot fudge sauce.
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