Slightly Off Kilter

After 5 years with the same company, I'm looking for a new job. There was a division re-org back in August and my manager resigned the same week (coincidentally). I wasn't a fit for the new team I was assigned to and, despite my best efforts, couldn't find a team I did fit.

"What you do is very valuable, Vicki... but there's no position for you in our group."

I heard that a lot.

At a techie Meetup last night, I met an IT guy who programs in Haskell. Haskell is described as a "polymorphically statically typed, lazy, purely functional language". The language is named for Haskell Brooks Curry, "whose work in mathematical logic serves as a foundation for functional languages". *

I've never used Haskell, the language, but every time I hear that someone does, I smile. I remember a sweet, absent-minded professor who wore purple socks.

I grew up across the street from Haskell Curry and his lovely wife, Virginia. They were wonderful people and good neighbors. I'm delighted that Mr Curry is remembered in a programming language.

Many years ago, we had a poof (pouf) - a giant bean bag stuffed with foam instead of "beans". It wore out, we recovered it, the new covering didn't work. It's gone now.

Today we got a new one from Ultimate Sack. The cats already approve.

(Posted under the category, Supporters at My Name is Me. The site supports your freedom to choose the name you use on social networks and other online services.

My name is Vicki. That's not the name on my birth certificate or how the IRS knows me. It _is_ the name my mother gave me.

My mother didn't give her daughters a name and then call us by a shortened version. She gave us each a name as well as a longer "formal" name to use for things like banks and taxes.

Which is my "real name"? For me, it's not the one on my driver's license.

This evening as they were driving along, the child suddenly looked very happy. She shouted and laughed, "Lets go to Borders Book Store."

Grandpa explained they couldn't because Borders were out of business. A while later he looked in the mirror.

She was sitting very quietly. Her face was all scrunged up. The tears where slowly flowing.

"Are you crying"? he asked. She slowly, silently nodded. "Why?", he asked.

A little four-year-old forlorn voice answered, "Borders is gone. I don't want Borders to go."

Good News: I have a new manager and increased scope at Dayjob. My job title and description will be adjusted to formally recognize what I've actually been doing for the past three years.

Bad news: New manager wants me in the office "more often". It's the only point on which we disagree. But it's a big point. For some time now, I've been telecommuting three days a week.

Within a month of my starting work at this company (on a temporary "contract"), I asked to telecommute one day a week. When they offered to make the position permanent, I requested permission to telecommute two days a week. That (and a Mac on my desk :-) were my most important negotiating points before saying Yes.

About a year and a half ago, I increased my telecommuting to three days a week. As my commute time and exposure to noise and disruption have gone down, my stress levels have also gone down. The ability to telecommute is one of my top reasons for staying with this company.

Asking me to "be the office more" feels like a punishment for a job well done.

Read more in commentary.

So, I placed the order (using PayPal) and checked the box. The next day, they sent me a quote for shipping. The quote was a bit higher than I would have liked (the item is small enough to fit in a USPS flat-rate envelope) but it was only a $5 difference from what I would have liked, so I sent the shipping by PayPal. Then I waited.

Continued...