When I first got my cellular data connection, I was not impressed. I would take my cellular connection card and go to the EVDO coverage areas and run speed tests and get crummy numbers for ping and download throughput. The latency was bad, it was pretty much unusable. I kept it around for a backup method to get on the network, but for the most part I searched for wired or 802.11 connections.
I had the opportunity recently to upgrade the firmware and the dialer software, and I have been impressed. The speeds are better, the latency is better, and the coverage seems better.
I have had odd situations where the software will disconnect for no good reason, or when you click on the dialer software it can take a minute for it to respond, but for the most part I am more than happy to deal with those situations rather than have no network connectivity at all.
I have had to resort to the cellular connection when I am behind the iron curtain. My employer has not seen the light, and insists that we need to visit the web via a proxy server with very restrictive filters.
I came from a very wide open environment, so this restriction is too much for the internet junkie that I have become to handle gracefully. Others that have lived in this ecosystem for a longer period of time are not bothered by it too much, but when you shut down my instant messenger access, and cut down my outbound ssh access, and ask that I go cold turkey, that is just too much.
Yes, I can create ssh tunnels through the proxy server, but the Nazi admins watch for a bunch of tunnelled traffic and come give you a talking to. It is OK for short durations, but not for an every day solution.
This is where a privately owned laptop and a cellular data connection is a lifesaver. The speeds are not nearly what I am used to, but it sure beats nothing.
How much longer do I have on this contract anyway? I like to joke that they did OK on the recruiting, and on the relocating, but not so much on the retaining.
We shall see.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Bunnies are soft
It is winter time. A time to frolic in the snow. A time to look out the window and see soft warm bunnies leaving footprints in said snow and nibbling on grass.
It got super cold for a week or so. At least it seemed super cold to the kid that lived 20 years in Phoenix and is still adjusting to a Northern climate and a season called winter. That is Winter with a capital W. 10F, snow on the ground and the wind tearing through you. Beyond cold. Heavy ski jacket and sweaters and hats and gloves and scarves and eyes watering and nose running and teeth chattering and still cold. The only time you leave your house is to commute to the office and back home. The locals like to say, this is not so bad, wait until it goes below 0. I can hardly wait.
Bunnies have fur. Lucky little critters, they can hop around and not feel a thing.
I enjoyed waking up and seeing the bunny tracks. I would call over the young children to catch a glimpse of Peter Rabbit while we all sipped our hot cocoa and prepared to tackle another day.
The fire was roaring, the furnace was blowing, the bunny was frolicking, all was well with the world.
Time slipped on. I had not seen the bunny for a while, maybe he had found a nicer neighborhood to hop around in.
It warmed up. Just a little. Into the 40s. Now I understood. When the locals told me that 40F would feel like a heat wave, I finally comprehended what they meant. It was cold, but not AS cold, and now I understand Einstein and his theory of relativity. Relatively speaking, it was not that cold. And this my friend makes all the difference as to whether you stay indoors or venture outdoors.
With the youngster in tow we went outside. The snow had melted. The air was crisp. The sun was shining. I only needed a light jacket. Compared to the week before, it felt almost tropical. Under the deck, we caught a glimpse of our bunny friend, he was taking a nap and enjoying the warmth.
I told the 3 year old to go closer, but be careful, don't scare the bunny - the bunny might run away.
We crept toward the bunny. He did not stir. Was he sleeping?
No. Of course not. It really was bitter cold the week before. Colder than I had realized. Bunny fur apparently cannot do that much against the onslaught of mother nature.
The bunny was dead.
The 3 year old was sad.
I got a garbage bag. And a shovel.
The bunny was frozen solid. The only angle available to me to try to pull the bunny from underneath the deck with the shovel was not working. This meant that attempting to pick him up in that manner was futile. I would have to risk contaminating my obsessively compulsively clean hands with dead bunny goo.
Using the garbage bag as a dead bunny cooties prophylactic, I reached underneath the deck, and pulled out the carcass. He was soft and furry. And stiff and unyielding.
As I gazed into his open bunny eyes that bored into mine, I kept waiting for him to start scratching at me and run off to his bunny home. His eyes accused me, asking me why could I have been so cruel? Why didn't I give him some bunny shelter and some bunny food? Didn't I know that it was cold outside?
I stuffed him into the trash bag and into the trash container. I thought about burying him, but I think a hefty bag and a landfill is a happier ending to his happy bunny life.
Who knows. I may be reading a post shortly that was authored by my garbage man, where he recounts his story of finding the thawed bunny remains in the trash bin and how they affected his life.
It got super cold for a week or so. At least it seemed super cold to the kid that lived 20 years in Phoenix and is still adjusting to a Northern climate and a season called winter. That is Winter with a capital W. 10F, snow on the ground and the wind tearing through you. Beyond cold. Heavy ski jacket and sweaters and hats and gloves and scarves and eyes watering and nose running and teeth chattering and still cold. The only time you leave your house is to commute to the office and back home. The locals like to say, this is not so bad, wait until it goes below 0. I can hardly wait.
Bunnies have fur. Lucky little critters, they can hop around and not feel a thing.
I enjoyed waking up and seeing the bunny tracks. I would call over the young children to catch a glimpse of Peter Rabbit while we all sipped our hot cocoa and prepared to tackle another day.
The fire was roaring, the furnace was blowing, the bunny was frolicking, all was well with the world.
Time slipped on. I had not seen the bunny for a while, maybe he had found a nicer neighborhood to hop around in.
It warmed up. Just a little. Into the 40s. Now I understood. When the locals told me that 40F would feel like a heat wave, I finally comprehended what they meant. It was cold, but not AS cold, and now I understand Einstein and his theory of relativity. Relatively speaking, it was not that cold. And this my friend makes all the difference as to whether you stay indoors or venture outdoors.
With the youngster in tow we went outside. The snow had melted. The air was crisp. The sun was shining. I only needed a light jacket. Compared to the week before, it felt almost tropical. Under the deck, we caught a glimpse of our bunny friend, he was taking a nap and enjoying the warmth.
I told the 3 year old to go closer, but be careful, don't scare the bunny - the bunny might run away.
We crept toward the bunny. He did not stir. Was he sleeping?
No. Of course not. It really was bitter cold the week before. Colder than I had realized. Bunny fur apparently cannot do that much against the onslaught of mother nature.
The bunny was dead.
The 3 year old was sad.
I got a garbage bag. And a shovel.
The bunny was frozen solid. The only angle available to me to try to pull the bunny from underneath the deck with the shovel was not working. This meant that attempting to pick him up in that manner was futile. I would have to risk contaminating my obsessively compulsively clean hands with dead bunny goo.
Using the garbage bag as a dead bunny cooties prophylactic, I reached underneath the deck, and pulled out the carcass. He was soft and furry. And stiff and unyielding.
As I gazed into his open bunny eyes that bored into mine, I kept waiting for him to start scratching at me and run off to his bunny home. His eyes accused me, asking me why could I have been so cruel? Why didn't I give him some bunny shelter and some bunny food? Didn't I know that it was cold outside?
I stuffed him into the trash bag and into the trash container. I thought about burying him, but I think a hefty bag and a landfill is a happier ending to his happy bunny life.
Who knows. I may be reading a post shortly that was authored by my garbage man, where he recounts his story of finding the thawed bunny remains in the trash bin and how they affected his life.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
ROWE
cbs has a story.
msnbc has a story.
time has a story.
It all says pretty much the same thing. You get better productivity out of your people when you give them freedom. You know. Come and go as you please. Give them a laptop and a vpn and a wireless connection and let them work from anywhere. Let them manage their own schedules and projects and lives. Do not worry about it if they are taking care of errands during the day, they are all grownups and they will get the job done and be happier.
We cannot have that. We must enforce the policy that states that our employees will be chained to their desks Monday - Friday from 9-5. You are employees and are unable to be trusted. You are our associates.
msnbc has a story.
time has a story.
It all says pretty much the same thing. You get better productivity out of your people when you give them freedom. You know. Come and go as you please. Give them a laptop and a vpn and a wireless connection and let them work from anywhere. Let them manage their own schedules and projects and lives. Do not worry about it if they are taking care of errands during the day, they are all grownups and they will get the job done and be happier.
We cannot have that. We must enforce the policy that states that our employees will be chained to their desks Monday - Friday from 9-5. You are employees and are unable to be trusted. You are our associates.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Donut offense?
I had never heard of a donut offense before.
It was my first day on the job and they assault me, asking me - so, where are the donuts?
Huh? What donuts?
I tried googling for it, and found these donut rules but that just did not seem official enough for me. I had never heard of it, Google had barely heard of it, and yet it exists. Somehow, in this world, people are engaged in a strange ritual and PETA is not up in arms over it. Are we not human animals? Donuts are unhealthy! or something. They will make you obese!
This means that on most any day, someone is committing a donut offense, and will have to bring in fattening foods. Shouldn't someone get upset? Have a protest? Hire a lawyer? Think of the kittens.
It seems that in some parts of these United States, you are to bring in donuts when any of the following occur.
New parent
New grandparent
New to the team
Leaving the team (unless you are fired and are walked to the door)
You've adversely affected production and somebody noticed
Sold house
Bought house
Parents moved in with you
Children move out
Children move back in
Sold vehicle
You bought a new vehicle
Called down to HR for any reason
You've received a job title change or been promoted.
You've gotten engaged.
You've gotten married.
You/your wife is pregnant.
You moved into your first apartment.
You have a new pet.
It is/was/soon-will-be your birthday.
It is/was/soon-will-be your hire-date anniversary.
You bought a new house/condo.
You got a ticket.
Forgot Laptop at Home
Bring in plenty for everyone. Then stand back. Let the feeding frenzy begin.
pdf fu
I was asked to help someone create a pdf file.
They did not like using the one in docs.google.com or openoffice as they both ended up mangling the .xls file that was being converted.
We ended up using cutepdf. This allowed you to just print from the file as you normally would, but you end up using the cutepdf printer as the device you print to. This then creates the .pdf file wherever you want to put it on your hard drive.
My tip to you for today.
They did not like using the one in docs.google.com or openoffice as they both ended up mangling the .xls file that was being converted.
We ended up using cutepdf. This allowed you to just print from the file as you normally would, but you end up using the cutepdf printer as the device you print to. This then creates the .pdf file wherever you want to put it on your hard drive.
My tip to you for today.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Show me the money
It amuses me. I thought that once I was given a soapbox, I would start spouting all kinds of nonsense. Slashdot and Digg would link to me, the world would beat down my door, the adsense dollars would start to roll in, and I could quit my job.
Oddly, that is not how it turned out. I find that I am still living the dream, being fattened up in a cube farm by donut wielding madmen. I had never even heard of a donut offense before moving here. 3 guesses as to where here is.
I am still living in hell, wondering why I took this gig in the first place. Was it the higher salary? Was it the all expense paid relocation? Was it my inability to come up with 2^11 on demand with no help from electronics of any kind? There is no telling what was going through my brain. All I know is, I do not have any ruby slippers and I cannot click my heels three times. I realize that there is no place like home, but there is no home to return to.
Oddly, that is not how it turned out. I find that I am still living the dream, being fattened up in a cube farm by donut wielding madmen. I had never even heard of a donut offense before moving here. 3 guesses as to where here is.
I am still living in hell, wondering why I took this gig in the first place. Was it the higher salary? Was it the all expense paid relocation? Was it my inability to come up with 2^11 on demand with no help from electronics of any kind? There is no telling what was going through my brain. All I know is, I do not have any ruby slippers and I cannot click my heels three times. I realize that there is no place like home, but there is no home to return to.
The sticky bit
If you are not clear as to the title of this blog, I will give you a little bit of help:
http://www.uwsg.iu.edu/UAU/files/sticky.html
http://www.uwsg.iu.edu/UAU/files/sticky.html
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