Also Pencils, Paper, Ball-Point Pens, Fountain Pens, Ink, and Index Cards...
Printers are indeed Engines of Satan. I don't use mine much nowadays, but it simply would not agree to being connected wirelessly to the PC I normally use. I had to resurrect an old cable thingy to join it to the PC I don't normally use, and which is at least located next to the said Engine of Satan...in a cold and remote corner of the Ark, seldom visited (at least voluntarily) in Winter...
Come The Great Outage, there'll be no light, either. Happily, I have Candles, and a solid-fuel Range for cooking, heating, and hot water.
And when The Great Outage happens there we'll be, sat in our freezing homes surrounded by our dumb TV and dead computers, immobile roomba and probably other equally sullen appliances.
Bring back switches and dials and things that will start up given a hearty slap.
“The Machine Stops,” by E.M. Forster, from 1909, 115 years ago:
When I see the name "Cockerell" I think of the inventor of the hovercraft, Christopher of that ilk. (There's also a manufacturer of steam tramway locomotives, but that is "Cockerill").
I think, in the end, that was a sacrifice of about 20 cockerels (of the black fowl variety) after much pondering and fervent prayer. My main documents have been beaten into submission, and whilst there is still minor adjusting to do, it will do for the August printouts which I'd wanted to get done last Sunday or Tuesday at the latest but a series of different dramas kyboshed that one.
Me, I'm going to announce on Sunday for several of the tasks concerned, pen and paper would've been faster.
My pension direct deposit was supposed to come today as far as I know (the literature I've received says the 30th, not the last day of the month, which would be tomorrow) and my online account with the pension system is locked and I can't get into it, so I had to call them by phone. There is a wait of 101 minutes. I used the call back feature and I just hope it works.
A cousin who lives near me, but whom I never see, and who doesn’t read my Facebook posts because I post a lot about what I’m eating… I finally reached out via FB messenger directly to her and her boyfriend/partner (I’ve never been invited to their home nor to meet the rest of the family (he has kids from a prior marriage), not for Thanksgiving or Christmas or anything, even though Cubby died in January 2021) to let them know the good news about my foot healing enough to get out and stuff rather than only driving to and from medical places twice a week since the end of May… I mentioned that I’d been excruciatingly isolated. I got a thumbs-up emoji from the partner, and… no response from my cousin. No “great!” or “Oh my God I didn’t know” or anything at all.
(Technically, I had shared a link to the update to each of them, but no response, so I messaged both of them asking if they’d seen it, and she’d said that she assumed someone had hacked my account, so she didn’t click on it… but she didn’t reach out to me to tell me that she thought someone had hacked my account. At all.)
A day or so later I messaged them to ask how they were doing. She said “OK.” He said nothing.
(In years past we’ve talked about getting together for lunch or dining but then it never happens.)
I just genuinely thought that saying, basically, “Hey, this horrible second degree burn on the sole of my foot has finally healed enough that I can go out after being horribly isolated since the end of May and now it’s near the end of July” would evince some kind of basic human reaction. Even strangers would say, “oh, that’s good news” or “glad to hear” or… anything, really. And it’s not because I’m gay—she and her boyfriend/partner are very progressive, go to protests, etc.
She didn’t even bother to tell me for a while (I heard from someone else or possibly saw a reference on her FB feed, I don’t recall) that she’d moved right to my area (14 miles away by car, 20 minute drive when there isn’t much traffic), nor that her father—my mother’s only sibling—had gone into a local nursing home after moving down from Ohio and then to Vero Beach (157 miles away on the other side of Florida from me). I did get to visit him a few times before he died, thank God.
It’s just… I know that books and TV shows aren’t fully reality, but I know there are other families who see their relatives, especially if they live close by, especially for holidays or when people are grieving, right? I saw her once or twice after Cubby passed, but… I think that was it over the last 3.5 years. But then I remember years ago, when she was with her first husband, up north, and Cubby and I were having one of our periodic financial struggles, and I asked if she might be able to loan us some money, and the first thing she said was that she was thinking about interest. She did decide to loan it without interest in the end, and I paid it back, but that struck me as not very kind. (We hadn’t made a habit of borrowing money from her; it might have been the first time—and certainly it was the last.)
Sorry for venting so much. It’s been on my mind the last few days.
I have relatives like that, and if they’ve never been different, assume they’ll be that way till the end of their lives and don’t beat your brains out trying to elicit a “normal human reaction“ from them. They likely don’t possess such a thing. I mean, close relative x was on the phone to my stepdad within hours of my mother’s death to tell him that my only reason for traveling to her final illness and death was to get his money out of him. With such a person, what can you do? Not much. Spare yourself and stop trying to get blood out of a stone.
There are few things more cheerless than talking to a recruiter (who has contacted you, not the other way round) on the phone and listening to them losing interest.
Did you not read my f****ing profile? Well, no, you obviously didn't or you wouldn't have needed to ask about my background.
I won't hope you get a nasty case of dhobi itch, as you do have my CV, and you never know what might come of that*, but it was close.
*quite possibly a phone call 10 years down the line because your CV has popped up in a serach by an agency you long since forgot existed, and they haven't twigged it's 10 years out of date, that's hapened a few times.
I am actually having some interactions in a different discussion chat with that cousin and the other cousins though no one else but her has actually responded yet—trying to find out about family history. And I really want to know about that stuff regardless of my relationship with any of these people. I might get put in touch with a different person who is I believe like the third cousin of the cousin in question who’s been doing research on family history stuff. Which is fine. What I want is the information in this case. I’m not going to expect a relationship with the cousin discussed in the previous post.
There are few things more cheerless than talking to a recruiter (who has contacted you, not the other way round) on the phone and listening to them losing interest.
Did you not read my f****ing profile? Well, no, you obviously didn't or you wouldn't have needed to ask about my background.
I won't hope you get a nasty case of dhobi itch, as you do have my CV, and you never know what might come of that*, but it was close.
*quite possibly a phone call 10 years down the line because your CV has popped up in a serach by an agency you long since forgot existed, and they haven't twigged it's 10 years out of date, that's hapened a few times.
These approaches can be galling. I was once approached (out of the blue) by an agency handling a post at desirable location X. They requested and got my CV, had a preliminary phone interview with me, and talked me into going forward with a formal application.
Then they asked me to fill out a DEI questionnaire… and after that, told me my CV didn’t make it on to the employer’s shortlist.
I don’t know how our church Director of Music remained so patient this evening. He had already sent out on email the pdfs of the scores and mp3 files of all the parts, recorded by him, yet far too few people had bothered to come prepared. Extra photocopies and note bashing were needed, which should not have been necessary.
One of the most well prepared is caring for a husband on chemo, grandchildren and a demanding mother-in-law, as well as running the admin side of their farm. The four ( retired) men were without exception the worst offenders.
I don’t know how our church Director of Music remained so patient this evening. He had already sent out on email the pdfs of the scores and mp3 files of all the parts, recorded by him, yet far too few people had bothered to come prepared. Extra photocopies and note bashing were needed, which should not have been necessary.
One of the most well prepared is caring for a husband on chemo, grandchildren and a demanding mother-in-law, as well as running the admin side of their farm. The four ( retired) men were without exception the worst offenders.
Way back in the day a friend (whose surname began with an "N") was approached by a recruiter, then a work colleague ("O") then another friend ("S"). So when I (Surname "T") got my call from the same recruiter the following day, I was unexcited.
The recruiter spun a story that I was of particular interest to the firm they represented, whose name they could not disclose at that early stage.
"It's X & Y, isn't it?" I asked.
"Why would you say that?" asked the hapless recruiter. "Well, if it was a firm anyone wanted to work for, they'd just advertise the job. But if it's X&Y, then it explains why they are using a recruitment company."
The recruiter sounded deflated. I guess that there weren't many more names on the list of potentials after me, and their only hope was a gullible Watson or Wilson, or, in the last chance saloon, a gormless Young.
When I was a regular in the job-centre in Kirkwall I dropped in one day having seen an advert for a typist in a Kirkwall office. I brought the card to the desk, and the desk lady (with whom I'd almost become friends) said, "It's with S&W - do you still want the job?"
Because I was working part-time (and horrid hours to boot), and the job was 9-5, I went for it (and got it). S&W's reputation for not being the best employers in the town was well justified, but it was useful experience (especially now, at the other end of my career, where I've ended up in the same line of work, but this time with a decent employer).
Ah yes, I remember being asked by a recruiter if I was interested in a job in vaccine manufacture near X. I asked if the company concerned was Y and he said "Yes, how do you know?".
To which I replied that I'd been offered the job 15-odd years previously, but the company had been so shambolic that I'd turned up at the front door and given them my notice. It was literally a shit job, too (squeezing chicken caecums to extract coccidiosis parasites), and I wasn't going back for seconds!
When we moved to Cambridge Mr Heavenly had just finished a PhD in quantum physics. He registered at a couple of specialist agencies and found his dream job at a tech consultancy. But I continued to get phone calls for him at home from recruiters and my favourite was the one who in reply to my saying he already had a job said ‘But this one is a proper physicist job’. Curious, I enquired where and was told ‘Sellafield’! It was clear that I wasn’t the first person that day who had burst out laughing in response. I declined on his behalf.
A lazy day today but we have purchased a new tent online (small family one to replace the huge family one for holidays without the boys), bought a camping table, and signed up on a cat sitting app for Mochi.
AI when students use it to write their papers, and plagiarism detection software that detects AI but not necessarily absolutely in ways that make it hard to be 100% sure enough to tell students that their paper was flagged as AI-written and can’t be accepted. Especially at the very end of the semester when you literally don’t have time to go nuts trying to figure it out, or argue about it, because you’ve got to do your final grades for the semester, so you say screw it and accept the papers and grade then after the fact and then have to put in grade change forms which don’t work and the tech people are trying to fix that and you’re just tired.
Spooky - the black cat from along the road who got in through an open window and filched expensive special kibble from some carefully weighed ziplocked plastic bags. Maybe I shouldn't have rescused her from Aroha's claws last week.
(Annoying though she is I do feel sorry for her. The elderly woman who doted on her died and her children and grandchildren mover in with 3 rescue cats and a dog.)
Yes, I've noticed her develop a bald patch usually due to a flea allergy and it disappears quickly due to a vet visit and medication. I think she may be lonely due to the elderly woman's death and the house would definitely be noisier. It's 5 houses along the road from me and is on a vey busy street so there are fewer quiet places to hide.
Yes, I've noticed her develop a bald patch usually due to a flea allergy and it disappears quickly due to a vet visit and medication. I think she may be lonely due to the elderly woman's death and the house would definitely be noisier. It's 5 houses along the road from me and is on a vey busy street so there are fewer quiet places to hide.
Yes she does. The speed at which the family reacted to her flea allergy shows they do care for her.
In most of NZ cats are legally free to wander. I have always kept Aroha in at night but there are other cats out there wandering around. There are no large predatory animals, humans especially in cars are the greatest danger.
After I let Aroha out the window in the morning Spooky comes in and sleeps on her own bed in the laundry.
I just need to ensure she can't break into the cat food cupboard.
Today I consign to Hell Wellington Airport. Christchurch Airport was easy, good signage and and the security line moved fairly quickly - Wellington was a nightmare complete with announcements that were just beyond my hearing range, a long zig-zag queue, and the trays to put things in not moving easily.
At one stage in Wellington I stopped in despair and said, "but where the hell is gate 9?" At which point a nice man rushing somewhere (whom I secretly believed to be an angel in disguise) stopped and led me to the last set of doors to go through.
If it hadn't been for him I might till be wandering around Wellington Airport muttering to myself.
Like a character a friend told me about in a book she had read * - I rely on the kindness of strangers.
*someone will know which one -I think it was a classic
Just been laid off. Not unexpected as I've been struggling and feeling out of my depth for a while and now the axe has fallen. I've three months gardening leave and 3 months salary in the bank, so should be OK for a while, just need to keep myself sane while I hunt for a Sandemaniac-shaped hole in the job market.
Comments
Printers are indeed Engines of Satan. I don't use mine much nowadays, but it simply would not agree to being connected wirelessly to the PC I normally use. I had to resurrect an old cable thingy to join it to the PC I don't normally use, and which is at least located next to the said Engine of Satan...in a cold and remote corner of the Ark, seldom visited (at least voluntarily) in Winter...
Come The Great Outage, there'll be no light, either. Happily, I have Candles, and a solid-fuel Range for cooking, heating, and hot water.
I read that twice, wondering what it had to do with the famous bookbinder* and then reckoned it had to be a rooster, with one 'l'.
*Am proud of the fact that an aunt worked at Cockerell's in the 60s - she loved working there.
“The Machine Stops,” by E.M. Forster, from 1909, 115 years ago:
https://www.cs.ucdavis.edu/~koehl/Teaching/ECS188/PDF_files/Machine_stops.pdf
Autoincorrect fail. It appears not to know about the word for a male fowl.
Me, I'm going to announce on Sunday for several of the tasks concerned, pen and paper would've been faster.
Beat me to it. I'll just second that condemnation
https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/article/2024/jul/30/far-right-attack-police-outside-southport-mosque-after-knife-killings
(Technically, I had shared a link to the update to each of them, but no response, so I messaged both of them asking if they’d seen it, and she’d said that she assumed someone had hacked my account, so she didn’t click on it… but she didn’t reach out to me to tell me that she thought someone had hacked my account. At all.)
A day or so later I messaged them to ask how they were doing. She said “OK.” He said nothing.
(In years past we’ve talked about getting together for lunch or dining but then it never happens.)
I just genuinely thought that saying, basically, “Hey, this horrible second degree burn on the sole of my foot has finally healed enough that I can go out after being horribly isolated since the end of May and now it’s near the end of July” would evince some kind of basic human reaction. Even strangers would say, “oh, that’s good news” or “glad to hear” or… anything, really. And it’s not because I’m gay—she and her boyfriend/partner are very progressive, go to protests, etc.
She didn’t even bother to tell me for a while (I heard from someone else or possibly saw a reference on her FB feed, I don’t recall) that she’d moved right to my area (14 miles away by car, 20 minute drive when there isn’t much traffic), nor that her father—my mother’s only sibling—had gone into a local nursing home after moving down from Ohio and then to Vero Beach (157 miles away on the other side of Florida from me). I did get to visit him a few times before he died, thank God.
It’s just… I know that books and TV shows aren’t fully reality, but I know there are other families who see their relatives, especially if they live close by, especially for holidays or when people are grieving, right? I saw her once or twice after Cubby passed, but… I think that was it over the last 3.5 years. But then I remember years ago, when she was with her first husband, up north, and Cubby and I were having one of our periodic financial struggles, and I asked if she might be able to loan us some money, and the first thing she said was that she was thinking about interest. She did decide to loan it without interest in the end, and I paid it back, but that struck me as not very kind. (We hadn’t made a habit of borrowing money from her; it might have been the first time—and certainly it was the last.)
Sorry for venting so much. It’s been on my mind the last few days.
Nope. They even sending me their membership magazine.
Did you not read my f****ing profile? Well, no, you obviously didn't or you wouldn't have needed to ask about my background.
I won't hope you get a nasty case of dhobi itch, as you do have my CV, and you never know what might come of that*, but it was close.
*quite possibly a phone call 10 years down the line because your CV has popped up in a serach by an agency you long since forgot existed, and they haven't twigged it's 10 years out of date, that's hapened a few times.
These approaches can be galling. I was once approached (out of the blue) by an agency handling a post at desirable location X. They requested and got my CV, had a preliminary phone interview with me, and talked me into going forward with a formal application.
Then they asked me to fill out a DEI questionnaire… and after that, told me my CV didn’t make it on to the employer’s shortlist.
One of the most well prepared is caring for a husband on chemo, grandchildren and a demanding mother-in-law, as well as running the admin side of their farm. The four ( retired) men were without exception the worst offenders.
Sounds familar
The recruiter spun a story that I was of particular interest to the firm they represented, whose name they could not disclose at that early stage.
"It's X & Y, isn't it?" I asked.
"Why would you say that?" asked the hapless recruiter. "Well, if it was a firm anyone wanted to work for, they'd just advertise the job. But if it's X&Y, then it explains why they are using a recruitment company."
The recruiter sounded deflated. I guess that there weren't many more names on the list of potentials after me, and their only hope was a gullible Watson or Wilson, or, in the last chance saloon, a gormless Young.
Because I was working part-time (and horrid hours to boot), and the job was 9-5, I went for it (and got it). S&W's reputation for not being the best employers in the town was well justified, but it was useful experience (especially now, at the other end of my career, where I've ended up in the same line of work, but this time with a decent employer).
To which I replied that I'd been offered the job 15-odd years previously, but the company had been so shambolic that I'd turned up at the front door and given them my notice. It was literally a shit job, too (squeezing chicken caecums to extract coccidiosis parasites), and I wasn't going back for seconds!
A lazy day today but we have purchased a new tent online (small family one to replace the huge family one for holidays without the boys), bought a camping table, and signed up on a cat sitting app for Mochi.
(Annoying though she is I do feel sorry for her. The elderly woman who doted on her died and her children and grandchildren mover in with 3 rescue cats and a dog.)
Poor kitty. 😢🕯
In most of NZ cats are legally free to wander. I have always kept Aroha in at night but there are other cats out there wandering around. There are no large predatory animals, humans especially in cars are the greatest danger.
After I let Aroha out the window in the morning Spooky comes in and sleeps on her own bed in the laundry.
I just need to ensure she can't break into the cat food cupboard.
Cat burglars are indeed very clever.
At one stage in Wellington I stopped in despair and said, "but where the hell is gate 9?" At which point a nice man rushing somewhere (whom I secretly believed to be an angel in disguise) stopped and led me to the last set of doors to go through.
If it hadn't been for him I might till be wandering around Wellington Airport muttering to myself.
Like a character a friend told me about in a book she had read * - I rely on the kindness of strangers.
*someone will know which one -I think it was a classic
Glad to hear that you had the help of someone kind, and I hope you are safely on your way.
Yes, that was the play - I remembered the friend who quoted it, but not the title or author.