Etiquette and the moveable desk

I'm off work for the next six weeks. I am making an effort not to think about work related things anymore than absolutely necessary. I am though wondering who will sit at my desk when I am gone, and what they will do to my computer.

This is the first place I have ever worked where everyone has an administrator account and people move around the office like they are playing musical chairs. I'm lucky enough to have an out of the way office in the basement. It's quiet and highly valued in the summer because our offices have no air conditioning. Now, the people I've scared the bejesus out of will stay away from my office. OTOH, my boss is likely to assign the office to some unsuspecting summer student who believes that it is perfectly fine to install music players and games onto my pristine machine.

I've done what I can to prevent that. I have hidden my speakers (note, they are mine, not my employer's) and left behind the trackball that apparently no one else can learn to use. I have an office chair that is stuck at a height that makes working at my desk a painful nightmare for anyone over 5 feet tall. I am the only person in the office who has two monitors, and the commonly used applications open in a way that appears to be helter skelter, but makes perfect sense to me. The average person sitting at my desk will wonder how anyone actually puts a piece of paper on the desk to write, as my smallish desktop is filled to overflowing with equipment and strangely named hanging files. The truth is, I don't put paper on my desktop. On the rare occasion I have to use a pen and paper, I move elsewhere. I am digital, not analog.

When I go back to work in mid-August, I will probably be the interloper in someone else's office as I am likely to still be on crutches, and our stairs are scary things even without a mobility impairment. The plan is to move all of my equipment from the basement into my temporary digs.

It's taken two years of hard effort, but I seem to have succeeded in training the powers that be that you don't screw with The Princess.

You need to be ingenious to be Canadian

I'm from "down south". In Canadian-speak that means I am from the US. I (proudly) became a Canadian citizen a coupla years ago, so I am both us and them.

There are things I love about Canada, when compared to the US, and vice verse. Mostly it's a wash, with two big exceptions (and no, I am not talking about health care--though I could go on and on about the pros and cons of both systems). Canada wins hands down when it comes to civil rights, marriage, yada yada for people in same sex relationships. Canada loses big time when it comes to access to technology.

In Alberta, any two people can form what is called, in legalise, an interdependent relationship, and have all the rights (and responsibilities) of married people. If you decide to get married, the Government of Canada does not care what you wear between your legs.

It seems so simple.

Now, wouldn't you think that a country that figured out how to just do it, when it comes to civil rights would be able to figure out how to approve/make possible a Canadian version of Google Checkout? And wouldn't you think that they would figure out a way to make texting between people in different countries happen without huge fees attached?

But, noooooooo....not here, not when we have substandard Canadian services to protect.

This is where the ingenious part comes in.

I have to root my phone in order to buy paid apps from the Android Marketplace because it would be a horror for Google Checkout not to be fully bilingual. A French one and an English one simply will not do, even if a vendor can work around our non-standard bank routing numbers. I have to use Twitter to text my US friends unless I want to send Rogers 25 cents for every message I send.

Shopping on line from Canada, sure; let me tell you about the two bras that had $60 worth of delivery charges and import duties added on, or the small boxes of Red Hots that took nine weeks to get here because each box had to be opened and examined by the government. The Made-In-Canada solution to this is to drive for five hours and cross the border once or twice a year, spend a few nights in a US motel, and pick up the things I have had Amazon deliver to me there.

When I applied to immigrate to Canada, I had to prove that my marriage to a Canadian was legit and he had to sign an agreement to be responsible for my well being once I got here. What they should have done is make sure I was obsessed enough to figure out how to use digital technology here.

Old phone numbers never die and related rantings

My last cell phone actually belonged to my employer. So, when I got a new phone a few weeks ago, I also got a new number. Actually, I got some fellow's recycled number. I don't think he used the phone for (gasp) talking very much. He does though appear to have been a texting fool. And mebbe not a very nice person. The folks who continue to text him/me/us sure seem pissed/peeved/feisty.

I reply in a very standard way, "I'm guessing that you didn't really mean to send this to a 57 year old married woman named Noodles. It appears that your target has moved on and gotten a new number." I'm thinking it will die down soon.

OTOH, the woman who has a Gmail account very like my own has been going strong since 2004. Now, I understand why someone with the same name as mine would want my Gmail address. And I try to be sympathetic, after all, I would not want to be forced to append a "1" to my very nice name either. However, it's been almost six years and she needs to suck it up and stop signing up for mailing lists, bulletin boards, and newsletters using my address.

And it's not just commercial mail. I have gotten mail from her co-workers, her friends, and her family. I know where she vacations and what she got her husband for Christmas in 2006. When I get her personal mail I either write back to the sender and let them know there has been a mix-up, or forward the mail to her myself.

You'd think that after all these years, she'd write back, but nope, nada, zilch, nothing. I'm betting she really screws up her text messages. Fortunately, that's not my problem.

My new phone

I bought a new cell phone. It's an amazing piece of Android goodness made somewhat craptastic by the limitations built into all things digital by the Government of Canada. This does not matter as I have not given the phone number to anyone but my family and my boss and I am almost never more than a room away from a real computer.

I could have bought one of those phones with big buttons and an operator that puts new numbers into the phone for you. Instead, I sync with the cloud and proselytize for IMAP over POP on phone forums.