April 17th, 2004

running, bomb tech

Ooops...

Belated Happy Birthday to boojum, as of the 14th.

*sigh*

Brain stopped working, I guess.
running, bomb tech

Work & stuff

I went to work an hour early yesterday. I'm not used to that.

I wound up sitting in booth 42. I also wound up sitting with Mr. Arbitrarily Bitter in the booth directly on my right. He was loud, and was going on at length about his life to the person sitting on his other side. If what he says can be trusted, and is not actually full of hot air, we have his return to commercial driving to look forward to. (I wanted to ask, but did not, if this would mean that he would no longer be with us at Hell, International.) Instead, I ignored the fuck out of him, or tried to.

The lady on the other side of the guy was moved to another job. This made Mr. Arbitrarily Bitter actually shut up with the gabbing and get on task. Now, I'm not opposed to some friendly conversation. What I am opposed to is excessively loud friendly conversation, especially when the person you're talking to is sitting right next to you, and it's a workplace. (I know I've got to be guilty of "too loud" often myself, as I've got this diaphragm with about ten years of assorted singing, and some theatre training. But I do try. The asshat's probably got some hearing damage or something, but, you know, you can be loud and still not be an asshat.) What convinces me that he's an asshat is that his general mode of operation is to sit down in his booth, and sit back from the booth far enough so that there is a foot or two of space between where the divider wall starts and where his nose starts. He has sometimes gone so far as to pull the keyboard off the desk and set it in his lap in order to operate the computer. The booths do more than just keep us not looking at our neighbor. Those suckers are carpeted to absorb noise. If he kept his face inside the booth, half the noise he generated would be blocked from the ambient. He doesn't. *fume* Everyone who doesn't like him is very annoyed with him for this little trick, especially given that supervisors and trainers tell people specifically to be sure to stay inside their booths.

I was very annoyed at having to sit next to him, and made no secret of that in my inimitable fashion. I didn't smile at him, and after he shut up, I barely deigned to acknowledge him, while noticing him. Even though he's old enough to be my mother, he acts like he's a teenager or in his twenties and immature. The thing that gets him from day to day is gossip (and evidently the more malicious the gossip, the better). I wasn't talking to him, nor was I looking at all inviting to start any sort of conversation. In fact, I was behaving with consummate professionalism, and didn't even glance at him when he craned his neck and peered inside my booth. (If we were in the 6th grade, I would have been ignoring him, except I made it work.)

He went out, either to the bathroom or on break, and when he came back, he sat down in the wrong booth (the one further away from me) before realizing his mistake and reluctantly sliding into the booth next to me. He kept his face in his booth and we got along just fine after that. (Translation: he didn't try to talk to me, and I carried on as per the usual.)

Soon, he was moved to a different job and I was alone. Yay!


My roommatesister got to meet the gossipy lady who used to be a determined skeptic on the topic of Tarot cards on break. Does she ever stop talking? No.

It was a decent day at work yesterday, if long. I really do hate talking to the people who talk to me as if I'm a complete idiot, but they're more rare than one might think.
running, bomb tech

Stay-at-home moms...

*sigh* Why is it that all the people I've heard of who want to marry a woman and have her be a stay-at-home mom have to be

a) Far older than me
b) Few common interests
c) The wrong religion (as in, would want me to be the same religion as them, and are not currently a match for mine)
d) No little creepy

I've done the full-time work thing, I've done the full-time school thing, and I've done the full-time homemaker thing. (Actually, I've done all of them at once, but...) I do think I prefer the full-time homemaker thing. I'm no great shakes as a housekeeper unless I have the time to be properly obsessed (and the storage space to make it practical, because I can organize like a motherfucker, but I can't do jack unless there's somewhere to put everything...) and I'm not really that much of a cook unless I'm also motivated, but I do prefer working at housecleaning and shepherding kids through homework to working at a Real Live Job (unless I could, say, take over a position like shadesong's, because I would absolutely rule at that -- one thing I'm better at than organizing My Own Stuff is organizing Someone Else's Stuff). I'm brilliant, I'm an efficient secretary, and I really do prefer hanging out with geeks and being support staff for geeks to being a full-time geek myself, because that shit is high-pressure, and that's where I fall apart.

I've come full circle and I suppose I don't mind the thought of kids anymore, but I know damn well I don't want to have kids and work at the same time, and I might prefer to just have one or two (or even adopt a four-year-old or have stepchildren, as the biology involved is perhaps Not For Me). I am still iffy on the thought of bearing children myself, since I grew up on Bujold and uterine replicators, and because I have not yet met anyone where there was mutual love, respect, and desire for reproduction. I would make an excellent cuckoo-mom, because I feel it's my memes more than my genes that I wish to pass on. I can't pass on my memes very well if I'm stuck in a nine-to-five job and am leaving my babies in the hands of those whose memes are alien and potentially dangerous.

Mama was a stay-at-home mom for us. After we got big enough to fend for ourselves, she would go and work on projects in her pottery shop, and we'd call her if there were problems. We went to public school. Since there were two of us, we played together, and she did other things while we were occupied. When I was three or four, she got her car, and she was forever shuttling us around, but other than our school schedules, she didn't have to conform to much in the way of a work schedule. (She did have to get very busy making pots for the sales she committed herself to, but it wasn't a nine-to-five sort of thing.) I envy that sort of freedom.

Where do I sign up to become a stay-at-home mom?