Tempin'

I've had a dilly of a pickle of a devil of a time lately trying to find me what y'all call a temporary, or "temp" job. I ask myself - "Self, what gives?" It's been a trying situation trying to find out the answer, which, by the way, is quite elusive. I've only been able to determine so far, based purely on empirical evidence, that my superior skills propel me to the upper echelon of employees, and I'm far too qualified for most offerings. Well, either that, or I just plain suck eggs. Or anywhere within that massive spectrum.

It's not fun having a vague sense at best what one should "do" with his or her personal work life. I certainly have experience jobs that I have hated, of course, and that makes the next statement quite easy to achieve: "I know what I DON'T like." But why is it so freakin' hard to choose what one DOES like? Too many options these days to draw the attention span away, I suppose.

Regardless, I'm off topic a bit. Ok, so, temp. work - that glorious world where the employees don't really care about what it is they do, (because it's impermanent), and the employers don't really care about training, or paying a high wage, because - that's correct - it's impermanent. So why even bother with this field? One good reason, of course, is the "temp. to hire" angle, allowing a fairly easy transition from being jobless into having a job, with the notion that said job could turn into a permanent job, possibly even a career. However, for yours truly, who is literally simply looking for temp. only positions for the next eight months, well - you kind of plummet down to the bottom of the proverbial barrel almost immediately.

As of this writing, however, there has been a recent upswing to the whole waiting game. I position has come through, and I begin tomorrow, for the next 90 days. Voila! Could this be it? Could this be the break I've been yearning for?
Um - no. I know what the position is, and it shant be in my future for long. But for now, it's another opportunity for me to roleplay a character within the mad-cap realm of "Office Space" and "The Office". I'll be sure to brush-up on my TPS reports.

The Secret of Success

"I'll tell you the secret to success, young lady - take one thing, anything, and become an expert at it."

The preceding advice is a paraphrased notation in a book I recently read called "Finder: The True Story of a Private Investiagor", in which our lovely protagonist, a woman named Marilyn Greene, receives some free advice from a passer-by stranger while she eats ice-cream on a bench. It's a very gripping book, by the way, and a fast read.

Now then, about the advice - brilliant! Truly, think about it for a moment. Take one thing, ANY "thing", and become an expert at it, and the implication is, you'll be successful. Now, let's assume for argument's sake that we're strictly speaking monetary success here; I'm well aware of the infinite wealth one can find within volunteering, hobbies, friends, spiritual journeys, etc., so let's focus on the aspect of what was surely implied by this gentleman, the "bottom line" of money.

I, for one, cannot think of a more succinct, and undeniably profound statement. Let's consider the implications of it: it might seem easy if you were an airline pilot, or brain surgeon, because by definition, those positions are rare, due to the arduous journey of indepth schooling which takes place, the high cost of personal commitment, and years of practice and interning it requires to reach such lofty jobs - this limits the actual number of pilots and surgeons, leaving a small number of qualified individuals in a surplus of a demanding world. In short, they're going to be able to write their own ticket, and it ain't gonna be cheap (to the employer).

But let's say you're an ice-cream truck driver; all you do for your job is drive around, and sell ice-cream. Pretty boring, you say? Maybe, but let's say the person love it. Yet, is there a chance to become "financially successful" here? Well, maybe - let's take the advice, and become an expert. What that means is, we study everything there is to know about ice-cream, and then some. We learn how it's made; what the ingredients are; where they come from; and the top-selling brands. But the "then some" in our equation stretches a lot farther than we initially think: now, we learn about who produces the ingredients for our ice-cream; is there a shortage coming up? What about a strike - are those employees happy? How's the upcoming weather patterns? Will a long stretch of cooler weather hurt the business? Let's take it further: what's our route? What area produce the most paying customers? Where is the best place to purchase gas? Can our vehicle be adjusted for any further gas mileages, saving money? Can it be spruced up to draw more attention? Are we using the best configuration inside to take advantage of the volume within? How about researching the city's traffic lights? Which ones are the shortest, and where is the least-congested areas of traffic, and how can we work that into our territory?

The point is, to become an expert in anything, there is a lot to learn, and a lot more than what may seem to fit within our job description. So, as dutiful and studious cream sellers that we are, we study, we learn, and we practice. Soon, because of our newly planned route, ingeniously packed service vehicle, exemplary demeanor, and knowledge of all things ice-cream related (to quench the thirst of our question-hungry customers, suppliers, and account executives, naturally) we not only consistently make our monthly quota, we exceed it. This gets us noticed by our supervisor, and we're given an expanded territory. Simply adjusting our mathematical equation, we approach our new size the same way, and after a short while, we're exceeing again. This leads to the notice of our regional manager, which leads to a supervisor position; with this opportunity, we learn more (such as how to manage properly, human resources jargon, etc.), which eventually leads to the regional VP taking a look, and before you know it, we're co-partners of the business. Or, something like that - but you get the idea.

All I have to do now, then, is become an expert in cosmology, and I'm set! See, it's so simple - all my life, I've always loved the stars, but not just astronomy or hard sciences, like the physics and equations behind black holes, neutron stars, or about-to-explode nova's. No, I've also enjoyed the grandness of the universe, the vastness of it, and all the mystery within. That, coupled with humanity's role in the universe (ask me about that, some time), as well as our various philosophies, religions, and societal goings-on. Right. So then, all I need to do is become an expert in science, physics, religion, astronomy, sociology, philosophy, anthropology, and I'm set! Right? Yeah - right...

Except - wait, wait, I ALSO really enjoy computer games! And not only playing them, mind you, but reading about them. And reading about the latest technology that one needs to play them on. This evolving technology, really, because one year eclipses the past's best efforts. So, there it is! I'll just become an expert in all things computer and technology-related, such as polygons, bitmapping, software interfaces, hardware, algorithms, the structure of games, puzzle-related learning...

Yet, hmmm - I seem to recall really enjoying helping people. You know, in many fashions, like volunteering at a soup kitchen, or helping out my local community, perhaps by writing for a local paper or adopting a park. So, I guess, um, wait now, I need to become an expert in philanthropy, and in addition, human psychology and sociology, and...

But wait now, I also love Sci-Fi and Fantasy; ok, read all the top Hugo and Nebula award-winning novels, plus the authors biographies and personal philosophies, and...No, no, wait, I do really and truly love organizing areas, like my office, or garage, or even ethereal places like a computer's hard-drive, folders, and desktop. Ah ha! There, I shall become an expert in all things organizational, and learn the intuitive concept of placement, feng shui, disclutter, organizing principles...

Wait, I didn't even get to higher education, teaching, TEFL, travel writing, creative writing, or air guitar. Ok, if I become a master of all the above, divided by the number of working years I have left, say, 40 at most, divide by the number of seperate categories...

* Sigh * Am I a victim in my own panoply of interests? Mired in my lofty aspirations, shall I become the gent that "apprentice to all, master of none"? Oh, the agony, having the secret to success, but not knowing on which subject to apply it!

Perhaps I shall just become a Master of Blogs. All I have to do is simply read every single blog in existence, in addition to practicing writing and updating my own, and I shall achieve success!

Excuse me - I have some reading to do.

The Console Wars continue

So, Nintendo has recently released their latest console entertainment system, the Wii (pronounced "we"), and next week, Sony will release the much ballyhooed, greatly jeered, and soon-to-be-tested PlayStation 3 system. This after about a year's worth of Microsoft's Xbox360 being on the market, allowing itself to gain a powerful share of the fans, and units sold.

For the Wii, it will be backwards compatible for all GameCube systems, even offering expansion slots to plug in that system's controllers. Sony, meanwhile, will be compatible with all previous PS 2 titles, and I believe most of PS 1 titles as well, though clearly, these old titles will be limited by their programming at the time, and will not be able to take advantage of the new processor inside the PS 3.

I myself am a PC gaming fan, and always will be - that is my platform of choice. Though it must be mentioned, I do have a PS 1, original Nintendo, and even a Super NES, hooked up to a TV in my den. What can I say, I'm a sucker for the classics, and to be honest, I prefer those old games, and most notibly, old CONTROLLERS, to the new systems. And if I needed to choose, I suppose I'd pick the Wii out of all three, simply because it's the one that would be nearest to my heart. However, my true allegience rests with the personal computer - there's just too much customization, graphics power, and expansion to be ignored. It is the superior gaming platform for First Person Shooters, strategy, and role-playing games, and across the board for graphics and physics processing. I don't play sports or racing.

However, come these next few weeks, you may be finding yourself staring at some brand-new, comparatively different-priced consoles and asking yourself, "Yee gads, whichever do I choose?"

Choose wisely, my friend - choose wisely.

The Old Man and the Diner

What can make the heart ache for a stranger? What is it about those moments in a person's life, arriving completely unexpectedly, that make you stop hard, as if a wave of arctic water suddenly and forcefully washed over your entire being, sucking the very breathe from your body? These moments make you take stock of your life, the way you live, what you say to others, where you spend your money next, or even, occasionally, to gaze slowly down to the plate of hot, freshly-prepared food in front of you, making you feel superbly appreciative of it, yet guilty for it, at the same time.

I experienced such a moment just the other night, sitting inside Mickey's Diner. It's a classic joint, situated in downtown St. Paul, MN, and has been there on its corner since the mid-1930's. An elongated box-car of sorts, it seats perhaps 30 people max, and has long since become worn and faded throughout its 24-hour-a-day operation cycle, and 7 decades of patronage. When you walk in, you immediately feel the oldness of the place, the stories embedded within the scuffed and marked tile floor, or the greasy, stained, faded red walls of the interior. In short, it's just the sort of place to go for a bowl of Mulligan stew and chocolate malt, which we did, last Saturday evening.

It was the first time I had ever been in Mickey's Diner. A prominent fixture of the town, this iconic landmark has made its way into the National Registry of Historical Sites, as well several major feature films, and yet, it was the first time I had ever dined there last Saturday. That's when I saw him.

Seated at the diner's counter, upon the last stool to the right, and a mere two feet from me, was an elderly man, I'm estimating in his mid to late 70's, resting silently on his old, simple seat. This was a Saturday night, 8:10 to be exact, and here was this fellow, incredibly skinny, with long, thin, wispy hair down to his shoulders, white and streaked with strands of gray, hunched over at the neck from years of existence, staring down into his cup of coffee. His rough, wrinkled pink hands clasped each other upon his smart, smooth gray slacks, and slowly rubbed back and forth. He sat there, silently, alone, and wore a faded sport jacket, brown in tone, along with his slacks, and perfect wingtip dress shoes, all from another era. I wondered just how long he had been there.

As I turned back to my wife, we both thought the same thing: "Is he all alone? Does he have any family, or friends? Can he afford only a cup of coffee, if even that?" These questions rang hollow through my mind, as I slowly cut and ate my egg and ham sandwich, and slurping down my malt. As I turned back, I noticed that this gentleman had not stirred, not moved his bearded head up once, but continued to stare silently into his coffee, quietly, and rubbing those aged, worn hands.

I wanted to go up to him, ask if everything was alright, ask if I could buy his meal, but then realized, he didn't have a meal; what's more, who was I to suggest such a thing? After all, he didn't look destitute, necessarily; he simply dressed from another time, perhaps from when the diner itself was a newly-minted business. But it wasn't so much his finances that concerned me; it was his absence of any company, his dress, and his manner. I thought, perhaps this is his evening out, and that to him, this was socializing, by dressing up in his finest, and sitting alone with other diners, never talking, only sitting, staring, head down, and soaking up this cold, Saturday night in Minnesota winter. And that was the moment when my heart felt very heavy.

What should we do in times like this? Why even feel like we must do anything? After all, this is a stranger, and there's no reason to butt into his or her business. But perhaps, just perhaps, that's all that this person wants - someone, anyone, to "butt in", become a warming stranger, and say Hello. Perhaps ask about the diner, what's good to eat here, implying that he's a regular customer; maybe just to ask for the time - anything to make contact. I don't know what it is about me, but the solitude of this patron really affected me in a deep and passionate way. Would I be the one to say something this time?

As the evening wore on, and we had completed our meals, we discovered that this gentlemen did at least know the friendly, vociferous staff. He was offered several refills on his coffee, which would cause him to smile pleasantly, nod, and mutter "Thank you". Later, I heard, "Would you like a doughnut now, Paul?" Paul - that's his name. And Paul said yes, he would like that doughnut now. It made me smile, but also feel strangely uncomfortable - would that doughnut be his dinner? I didn't dwell on it long.

We paid our bill, and as I prepared to leave my musings, I found myself passing by my subject, where I gently tapped him on the shoulder and said, as he turned to me, "Have a good night, Paul." He smiled then too, cracking his white beard into a wide, toothy grin, and said, "Yes, thank you. You too."

And I did.