Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Moscone Center

I was in the Moscone Convention Center in San Francisco Monday and Tuesday this week for the SUGI, the SAS User Group International. This is basically a computer software conference hosted by SAS Institute - the "world's largest privately held software company" - which makes software devoted to the analysis of data. Their software is good, and I use it for my job, so I will refrain from comments and snide remarks ...

In any case, SAS threw out some serious dough for this conference. I attended the opening session on Sunday evening. After Oscar-like presentations by the CEO and directors (complete with very colorful backlighting on a huge soundstage in front of an audience of 5,000) they had perform, if I remember it correctly, the Japanese drummers to highlight Japantown, the 3 Tenors (I couldn't see Pavarotti but they were professionals) to introduce "Little Italy", i.e. "North Beath" neighborhood, and the lead singer from Jefferson Starship, Mickey Thomas (who sang "We Built This City"). I'd say I enjoyed the 3 tenors most. It was humorous to see the entertainers trying their best - and they gave it a good effort - to get 5,000 statistical programmers and data analysts like myself "pumped up" about the software we use. The place was rockin' indeed!

Then, on Monday morning as I arrived to the conference, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder, and turned around to see ... my old supervisor from Kohl's Department stores from 1999! I hadn't seen him for years. That was kind of a shock. I kind of left that place in a hurry back in the beginning of 2000 only to find myself in a dead-end IT project in Germany, wishing I'd been more careful. Well, he seemed to have forgotten about it. Maybe because of this encounter, I went and watched Kohls' presentation to the assembled audience later on (today). They talked a lot about their campaign to use computer analytic tools from SAS to put the right size products on their shelves. I was more interested in what systems they used and how they implemented them. More of the engineering stuff, you could say. But, in front of the audience of mostly retail employees, they revealed precious little that I could use in my job here. Oh well...

The conference goes on tomorrow but I think I've had my fill of seminars and tutorials. It's a luxury of my job that I can go to these things but even they have their limit. I look forward to a regular day at the office tomorrow.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

My Coldest Winter (Part 3)

This is the last entry I will write for now about the winter of 1994. It was a good mental excercise for me to write this. Actually, I wrote it sometime late last fall. I guess I was in a mood to excercise some old demons. Well, I think I've sufficiently bored you with it, so here is the last part. As it begins, I am desperately searching around Dinkytown, near the U of M in Minneapolis, for an apartment under $250 a month, in the dead of winter.

6. My First “Apartment”

Eventually, I found an apartment. It was a room in a 3-bedroom apartment. Since I was in such a rush, I found the place in the morning, called the owner, and on his verbal agreement moved in the same afternoon. My 2 roommates were both home. They were surprised anyone would be moving in these temperatures.

The apartment didn't actually consist of 3 bedrooms. It was about 700 square feet divided between 4 rooms. My room was created by putting in a thin sheet of drywall in the middle of a larger room. One half was the common room, with the T.V., two dirty leather couches, and a coffee table. My room was the other half. If someone was talking on the telephone in the living room, I could hear through the drywall what the person was saying, and usually, some of what the person he was speaking to was saying, as well. That's how paper-thin the wall was.

The guys I was about to live with couldn't be any different - at least, on the surface. Jeff worked at Kinko's. He had the late shift, and came home sometime around 1. Then he would watch movies, or play them, for the rest of the night. He always had the volume cranked up. I don't know how he slept. The other roommate (I don't remember his name) worked at an electronics store, in addition to being a student at the U. He was from Nigeria, and easy going. Most of the time, he hung out with his friends, and enjoyed watching and sometimes playing basketball – often in the living room. At that time, Glenn Robinson was finishing his senior year at Purdue, and Voshon Lenard was at Minnesota. I knew all about the college athletes, because my roommate was watching them on TV all the time. I sometimes joined him. It was a way to pass the time.

One other thing about these first roommates and that was they didn't like to clean up their food, their plates, or their trash. I don't mean to rant about them, since I'm far from perfect in this category, and besides I don't believe in ranting about people in your past. These roommates later proved to be good guys. However, I am trying to give you an idea how I lived. The apartment often smelled of hamburgers or some greasy food that the other guys had eaten and not cleaned up. I suppose this was kind of good for me. I couldn't afford hamburgers, you see, and seeing and smelling stale, greasy leftovers made me permanently lose my appetite for fast food. I lived on a diet of rahmen noodles, sometimes complimented by broccoli and a hot dog. As a luxury, I might enjoy a bottle of the cheapest beer I could get (at the time, it was a brand called Black Label).

7. Looking for Work

After a couple weeks of hunting around, I still hadn't found even a temporary job. January is not the best time of year to be looking for work in the upper Midwest. Back in 1993, we were still coming out of recession. There wasn't much demand for college students with liberal arts degrees. I know I wasn't alone.

One day I finally did get a call from the temporary staffing company. I should come in to meet the client. The office was in the western suburbs, far from where I lived near the University. So I got in my Pinto, and drove it out of the city. I didn't like to drive this car anymore. I knew it was a safety hazard, for me, and for the other people on the road. Anyways, that day I happen to leave the lights on after I got to the office where I was meeting the staffing person. After a short meeting (I forget what the outcome was, but I wasn't in any great mood when I came out), I came back in the parking lot to see the disheartening sight of barely illuminated headlights someone had left switched on. This was of course my own black Pinto. When a person finally agreed to help me jumpstart the car, we hooked up the cables together. I remember it was a lady, a really nice person. However, neither she nor I knew much about cars, I think. I got in my car and turned on the ignition. Smoke started to appear. There were sparks. I turned off the key and ran back around to look in the hood. The car was dead. Black wire cables were smoking and the distinct smell of burning rubber cable hung in the air. The car was pretty much a wreck. I had the nearest tow agency come and pick it up. They agreed to take it for free. Though I knew it woud be a hardship for me, I felt relieved in a way. My choices were being made for me.

8. General Mills

So now I was, in addition to being jobless, carless. I began to appreciate the availability of public transportation. I used the bus system in Minneapolis a lot that winter. Eventually, I found a temporary job in the west suburbs of the city, working at General Mills. I would have to take one bus from my apartment at the university to downtown. There was a transfer station there for those who had to get to work in the suburbs. You had to wait out in the cold, I remember. Either this was to discourage people from riding the bus, or, more likely, to discourage poor people from hanging around the bus stations. My total commute, including the bus rides (when they were on schedule) was something 1 hour 20 minutes.

The last leg of my daily trip to work at General Mills was from the parking lot to the inside of the building. This was a significant walk, actually. I don't how many people worked at this complex, but it was probably something like 10,000. Remember, this is the company that supplies the world with such products as Cheerios, Trix, Count Chocula, and Lucky Charms. In any case, the parking lot for this office complex in the suburbs west of Minneapolis was accordingly large, for all the employees that worked there. General Mills, in its infinite generosity, had built a kind of wind-sheltered walkway from the parking lot into the corporate offices. Mind you, this was not heated. It was still really cold. You could hear the metal clanging as you walked. Metal makes different sounds when struck at low temperatures. Something like when you banged against the flagpole in middle school. Dong, dong. I remember this sound. And being really happy to get to work, in the warm building. Have you ever wondered why people in the Midwest have the reputation for being hard workers? Because there's nothing else to do there in the winter! I mean, you really are glad when you successfully make the journey from your home, through the snow, the ice, and the cold, to your warm, cozy office. That's if you're lucky and you work in an office.

My job at G' Mills consisted of opening bills from doctors and hospitals to current and former General Mills employees that were covered by company insurance or pension plans. That job was a real eye-opener in terms of how much medical care can cost, both to a patient and to a company that pays pensions. I and several other temps like me would receive the letters, open them, and sort them. Letters without bills went one place, doctor and hospital bills another place, and dentists' bills yet another. It was sort of like in “The Incredibles”, where Mr. Incredible the humble office worker is working in sea of cubicles, assigned the task to deny claims from his clients. Except I didn't even have the power to deny any claims. I was just a lowly mail clerk.

On the bright side, getting to work at a big company with a proud tradition like General Mills gave me a peek into the corporate world. They had their own gift store. You could get giant plush Lucky Charms dolls, or clothes with every brand of cereal emblazoned on the front. I walked by there every morning. I don't remember if I felt jealous of the people who could actually afford those things, or even more estranged by this type of captive commercialism. I think I thought about money a lot. That's I guess what happens when you have to measure every dollar.

Well, I'm coming to the end now. After 3 ½ years at private college, I had started at a pretty low rung. Looking back, I'm kind of glad I got through all that. Those months, and years actually, when I was living from month to month working temp jobs were not particularly good for me. I think it was mostly hard mentally. I mean, I was just 23 or 24, so physically, no problem. But, despite the conditions, I still had moments where I would I laugh, and tell jokes. Eventually, I moved on, to better places and jobs. It was a passing phase, I guess.

Well, thanks for reading. I have a question for you. What it was like when you got your first job? How did you deal with the transition?

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

My Coldest Winter (Part 2)

I will finally continue the story I started about 2 weeks ago. It is the true account of my move from college to "The Real World". I say, true account, because another writer who also spent some unpleasant times in Minnesota recently became famous for writing a book he claimed as "autobiographical", and then later admitting he had fabricated certain parts of (I suspect his visit to the dentist and unmedicated root canal surgery was one of these fabrications).

Anyways, I digress. On with the REAL story ...

3. Looking for work – or not

A couple weeks later, I had made my plan. I would go up to the City, which is what I called Minneapolis. I would just go and try my luck. Trying to find work the conventional way just wasn't my cup of tea. I know, I should have used the college career placement office. But they were so meticulous. Wanted to quibble about misplaced commas, when all I wanted was my own car. Wanted me to sign up for on-campus interviews, for the spring, when what I wanted was a job, any job, now. I mean, how hard can it be? I'd never held any job before that I could get in one day. Go in, fill out an application, talk to the boss, and the next day, they call me, “your hired”, or, “we don't need you this year. We're full”. And the college wanted me to revise my resume? Like I had all the time in the world. Please ...

In the meantime, I read my college books in the comfort of the library on “The Hill”, pondering these questions. It seemed silly to be making any serious plans, especially plans that would obviously involve a great deal of discomfort and attention to detail. (I associated these two things together) After all, my first priority was getting through my Russian History class in January and arranging my exit from college. I didn't want to be surprised later on that I still needed an extra class credit or something. That would mean 4 or 5 more months of this place. I had grown to know every square foot of campus. Though more recent visits have confirmed that “The Hill” (what people affectionately call the campus there in Northfield) is indeed a beautiful spot, I learned then that no matter how nice a “paradise” one lives on, if one does not alter the landscape from time to time, one will grow tired of it. I was ready for someplace new, dirty and exciting.

4. Moving Day

At the end of January, it was time to move. I had a friend up in the city who said I could stay for a little while. I had saved up a couple hundred bucks. I packed my belongings in the Pinto, hoping that the brakes would not completely fail during my move and ruin me and the belongings. I remember the night I was packing. We were having yet another snowfall. All my fellow students and coeds were having a gay old time, chasing eachother around, pelting eachother with snowballs, going up to their warm, cozy dorm rooms and doing what college kids like to do best. I had no such pleasures to look forward to. I started the car. Thankfully, the ignition was still in working condition. I let it warm up, spewing poisonous exhaust into the frigid air. Going around the vehicle, brushing snow off the lights, the front window, the back hatch, I was rather proud of myself. I felt like one of those settlers who headed west in horse-drawn carriages loaded to the beams with all their possessions. The car purred peacefully. Nice Pinto. Goodbye, Thorsen Hall.... goodbye, St. Olaf College.

That night, I arrived in Minneapolis. It was about 0 degrees. I pulled into the parking lot of my friend's place. My buddy, let's call him Jake, rented an upper level room in an apartment he shared with 2 other people. The lease holder was a Japanese graduate student, in her late 30s or early 40s. I knew other Japanese, and liked them. But this Japanese didn't like me. “Jake, your friend cannot stay here. He does not pay” She was trying not to have an open argument in front of me. For some reason, her sense of civility which prevented her from trying to embarrass me in front of my friend was not enough to convince her not to throw a poor student out of the house, into a killing frost. My friend then agreed to keep me for at least a couple nights. I really wasn't feeling good about this. I had always felt like it was not right to stay where you're not wanted. Or to cause an argument by your presence. Well, I had my work cut out for me. Find an affordable apartment for less than $250 a month in the middle of the coldest winter in memory in Minneapolis.

5. Looking for a Shelter

Now I was desperate. If I didn't find something soon, I would either (a) have to go to a homeless shelter to survive, or (b) go back to Wisconsin, hanging my head in failure. I drove around the area near the place I had crashed (where Jake was living), scanning for “For Rent” signs. I knew that the car – the Pinto - was my weakness. Assuming I could get some sort of job, I couldn't trust the car to start and get me to work every morning. So I had to have a cheap apartment near public transit. That pretty much limited me to the University Area. It is the area just to the East of the Mississippi River, which separates the campus at the University of Minnesota / Minneapolis into 2 parts. Where I ended up living, in case you are looking at the map, is around where it says "SE 5th Ave.", just north of the red star.

One good thing if you're looking for cheap housing is, the U of M is surrounded by student apartment buildings (in what is called "Dinkytown"). The bad thing is, these apartment buildings are some of the cheapest, worst-maintained housing you'll ever see. I didn't care about that at the the time, though. I needed a place, and I needed it fast.

Friday, March 03, 2006

My Coldest Winter (Part 1)

1. College

The coldest winter of my life was 1993-94. This was the winter I graduated from college. I graduated in the middle of the year, because I only needed 3 ½ years to collect the necessary credits at the small private college where I went to school. Financially, this made sense, since tuition at the time still cost more than I or my parents could pay. So I borrowed, I worked summers, and I studied enough in order to graduate a little early. However, I think I may have miscalculated on this decision. You see, this was winter in Minnesota. 1993 was such a cold winter, I broke my friend's starter on his Ford because the ignition got stuck in “start” when I turned the key. It was so cold, you'd get snot running down your face from exposure if you were outside any length of time. It was so cold that other students (with cash to spare) would order pizza from Domino's instead of trudging the ¼ mile over to the cafeteria to eat for free. Well, they did that all the time, anyhow, but even I did it despite having no money, to avoid the cold.

Anyways, in college, I lived in a small town, Northfield, about 1 hour south of the Twin Cities. I lived on the campus, and I ate my meals at the cafeteria. In other words, I had no job, no furniture, no cooking skills, and no clue. All I knew was, I could not go home, because it would be impossible to live under the same roof as my parents. It was January. At the end of the month, my 3-credit class in History of Russian Literature was over, and I had enough credits to graduate. I had to make some decisions.

2. Getting my first car

So I did what any college kid in my situation would have done. I scanned the want ads for cheap used cars. I found one, in some little town midway between Northfield and Minneapolis. It was a 1981 Ford Pinto, black. The owners wanted $400. “Engine runs good”. I did not argue. I took the greyhound bus up to the closest town along the highway near the owners. The owner picked me up from the shopping mall and drove me to his house, explaining that the master cylinder needed a little work, but otherwise, the car was o.k. I didn't know what a master cylinder was. He was real nice. Asked me what I studied. What I was going to do. I don't think I knew it myself.

We got to the owner's house. It was basically a shack back in the woods somewhere. The wife came out and sized me up. I was a green college kid, ready to part with my money. I had no ride, and no way even back into town. “So ya want to buy our car?” I said, “well, I do need one”. Or something like that. “Can you give me a break on the price?” “I'm sorry, we can't. You can see how poor we are.” Their dirty looking kids were running around, as if to emphasize the point. I began to consider the situation I had put myself in. I had come to the seller's house with his ride, and had no way back to campus, unless I either bought the car, or told them no, please give me a ride back. Then the whole day and enterprise were for nothing. So, I said, to hell with it, I need a car, and besides, you gotta start somewhere. I paid the $400. On the way home, I noticed the brakes were indeed really soft. It was my first lesson in life. Never deal out of compassion.