Must. Not. Hate.

I'm currently listening to minimalist classical music and typing in English. These things should not be such a relief, but after this they definitely are.

I spent the majority of the week translating back and forth between English and Spanish for the engineers from the Mexico plant who traveled with us to Pennsylvania and then visited our plant. They were nice enough (although I think asking if I have a boyfriend crosses the professional relationship line), but it was mentally taxing to me. I can think in Spanish or English, pick one. Especially un-recommended is to have someone talking to me in Spanish while an English phone conversation goes on in the background. The only thing I'll get out of that is the one-sided phone conversation. By the end of today I was getting a crashing headache and just wanted no words in my general proximity. Grammar and vocabulary in either language were child-like at best. I do need to brush up my Spanish.

Really, though, the Spanish-speaking was probably one of the better parts of my week. I'm desperately trying not to hate my boss. This week there was too much together time and I realized that he can be nice, but I have too many reasons to dislike him. Such as:

1. Tactlessness to an extreme. Do not offend your hosts. Do not think that butchering someone else's language on purpose is cute. Do not berate someone else's intern or insult someone else's organization. Just don't.
2. Trying to isolate me from the rotational program. Speaking badly of the rotational program or otherwise not trusting it and attempting to get me to not trust it is going to get just the opposite. At least they are generally nice to me.
3. Lack of organization. If you invite people from another country to visit a month in advance, use some of that month to plan for their visit. Set up transportation, meals, tours, presentations, and activities to fill the entire time, especially if you insist on them staying longer than they wish. Do not schedule vacation days, leave early, or spend your day responding to voice mail and e-mail as you pawn the visitors off on others without warning. You are officially a bad person for this.
4. Sexist comments. This likely goes with the first tactlessness point, but really I'm not o.k. with the sexist comments. I may be an engineer, but people still call me Miss. These really shouldn't ever be o.k., but in my presence they definitely are not.
5. Other offensive comments. Do not think that calling someone fag is o.k. How do you know I'm not? Likewise, don't make fun of Mexicans. I may not be Mexican, but I have friends. You don't have to go to the extreme of political correctness, but maybe you should try a little further down the continuum.
6. Asking about my personal life. You, like my Mexican friends, have no right to know about my personal life. Talk about your wife and kids if you like, I choose not to reveal such things to you. Do not ask, I'm pretty certain it's against the law.
7. Micromanagement and otherwise nitpicking. If you are going to do the work, feel free to be detail oriented. If I am going to do work for you, tell me what you want and fix the small, obsessive-compulsive details yourself. If someone else is doing work, not for you, and it gets the point across, keep your mouth shut on the details; they are not yours.

I'm trying not to hate, but it's getting hard. I do like my job most days, but I seem to like it more when my boss isn't involved. Shame, that.

Light bulbs. Lots of Lightbulbs.

I just got back from a visit to the incandescent plant and surrounding town where I will be living next. It was interesting. The plant itself is loud and smelly. I work in a plant that is loud and smelly, but we generally keep it in the building. Not so much with the incandescent factory. Apparently if you've been making light bulbs in the same small town for 100 years no one really bothers you with things like environmental considerations. At 2 million bulbs a day, the factory really is quite amazing. They have automated fork trucks which drive around carrying 12,000 bulbs at a time and break nothing. The factory seems to go on forever; in my third day wandering around the plant I still found entirely new areas (like the life testing area: a whole room full of perpetually burning, warm incandescent light bulbs. I will be moving my desk into there shortly). More striking than anything, though, was the space. They have space. It is sadly obvious that the factory is becoming a relic; they still produce 2 million a day, but compact fluorescent has definitely been providing still competition. It will be an experience to work there, but more because I feel it may be a dinosaur branch of the company slowly sinking into the tar pit.

The town was also an experience. We drove 2 hours from the airport just to reach it, hidden away in the hills. The surrounding national forest was just beginning to show the fall foliage and served as a stunning backdrop to the rampant and stately elk. The town has a town square with the general town square essentials and cute little shops with apartments above. The houses are modest, reflecting the town's average household income of less at $30,000/year. The people are friendly and down to earth; the nuns from the local catholic school even mow their own lawn in the habits and a baseball cap these people are so practical. It will be a simple, quiet and inexpensive existence for a couple months if I can convince my car over the hills in the dead of winter to get there. It may not be the most social or fun time of my life, but it should be survivable.

The last real experience of the trip was my boss. My boss is a mixed bag, sometimes being wonderful and allowing me the freedom to make my own mistakes, other times being tactless, overbearing or micromanaging. This trip was heavy on tactless, starting with our arrival at the plant. The intern, a not-yet-graduated industrial engineer had prepared a presentation for us of what she does for the project. My boss showed no restraint in commenting on how things were not being done like we do them at our plant, or critiquing the charts and graphs. Having never met the incandescent people before that moment, I found myself wishing I was part of them instead of associated with my obnoxious boss. It was so frustrating to watch that once in the car I built up the courage to tell my boss he had been wrong. For someone as shy and eager to please as myself, this was extremely difficult, so it had to be bad. Although he was still tactless beyond my threshold for the remainder of the trip, at least he apologized for being so tactless to the incandescent people. Now if I could only get him to treat the Mexican plant with more respect and understanding...

Shopping

Shopping Scenario 1:

I walk into the store with a mission. I need to choose a new pair of glasses. The walls are covered with every type of frames available and the sales people are incredibly friendly and helpful. Unfortunately, I have no desire to be in the store. Too many choices on a necessity item. Everyone should have to wear the same glasses, children sporting miniaturized version of the adult frames. There would be no "fashion" involved. The market for $200 frames would be non-existent, not due to lack of demand, but instead due to lack of supply. It's times like this I wish I was living in a Communist country. Faced with too many choices, I decide to try contacts, then maybe come back and get new lenses for my current frames before fleeing the scene.

Shopping Scenario 2:

After battling the SUVs and mindless pedestrians in the parking lot, I have successfully parked and amble into the Target store. My list consists of a couple very specific items for a care package I'm putting together and dental floss. Upon entering and picking up a basket the discount area calls to me. Crafting supplies are only $1! Such pretty things, so cheap! I pry myself away from the discount section clutching only a few dollars in useless crap. I promise myself they will go into the care package. Mostly, anyways. I find myself in the women's clothing section. I don't need more clothing, but it has been cold lately and they do have sweaters. Oh, and I should look for cheap work clothes. I manage to convince myself that this is not the time to buy clothing and move across the aisle to the workout clothes (well, I could use another pair of workout pants...) then segue into the socks (so many of my socks have holes...). I manage to resist the siren call of the Halloween candy on the first pass, but nearly give into the juice, because I do need to take something to that party tonight. Still, i manage to make it to the personal care section, picking up only the care package items and grabbing the dental floss. I realize I should go look for an eye patch or hat for tonight's party, meaning I have to venture all the way to the back corner of the store. No luck on the pirate gear, but the big sale section is back here, too. I really like those chairs, and they're only $20. So hard to resist. Traversing the entire store to get back to the cash register I check out the blenders and nearly give into a pretty Black and Decker, but it leads me into the entire cookware section, with dangerous temptations and sharp objects. I shake off my consumer lust by telling myself I'm saving up money to give to Olin and walk quickly away from the kitchen section. The Halloween candy comes closer to luring me into its clutches, getting me to take three steps down the aisle before I realize that I do not need this stuff. I need to get out of here. I manage to check out with a mere $13 in merchandise, a miracle considering the consumerism sucking my soul into the abyss. As I make my way out to the car, I look at my watch and calculate that I took more than 1/2 an hour to basically go in and get what I was there for in the first place. How did that happen?


Why are the two experiences so different? Why do I want things I don't need and not want the things I do need? Both sets of experiences, contrasted to each other, make me realize how little I like shopping. Necessity items are no fun to buy, but have to be bought, while superfluous items tear at my inner mantra of needing less stuff in life. Consumerism can be such a satisfying rush in the short term, but will not be nearly as satisfying as charitable giving in the long run. Sometimes I just need to remind myself that stuff will not make me happy and will often make me sad.

Rant

Dear Delta Airlines,
I like to travel. Planes are magic technology and every landing makes the ground more appreciated. I have learned to sleep in strange positions to accommodate your wistful geometries and always thanks the flight attendant after the flight. I am polite to your gate agents, even when tired and the incompetence is obvious. Until now, I haven't complained, but I think you've gotten a little too comfortable with the current situation and it's become apparent that your performance is slipping.
In the past month, I've made 3 trips involving you. Of these three trips, you lost my luggage twice, delayed my flights twice, and took half an hour with baggage another time. You have made me leave security and go through getting my shoes ex-rayed again. You pretended to not understand how to print a boarding pass. You delayed flights then un-delayed them without announcing it. You delayed flights without announcing it, either. You have successfully convinced me to avoid the Atlanta airport altogether and may have convinced me against La Guardia as well. To add insult to injury, you just failed to have anyone staffing the baggage services counter when you did finally get my bag (not that you called to tell me). As far as you know, some homeless guy could have walked off with my bag. Your care and consideration are noted and appreciated and could be reciprocated with baggage fraud. I'm always so nice to you, why do you treat me like this?
I think I we may need to re-evaluate our relationship.
-K

In addition to delta airlines, I would like to tell the TSA to enjoy my keychain leatherman. I didn't need it to function as my only screw driver anyways. Also, to TicketMaster you are actively living up to the moniker TicketBastard, charging an additional $13.50 on a $28 ticket. I work harder for that money than you do. And lastly, although I know it's my fault that my cell phone no longer works, but Sprint, I am no longer a child, you should not need parental consent for me to get a new (free!) phone. On that note, if anyone would like to hear from me ever again, you need to e-mail me your cell phone number for when I do get a new phone.