|
|
|
be supportive
Monday, July 19 1999
This morning Kim and I had another of our big fights. It all started when I was leaving for work. I did nothing more than inform her I'd be coming home late tonight. Not wanting to fight about this issue while we'd been vacationing this weekend, I'd been putting off telling her until the very last possible moment. Her reaction was a little more extreme than I'd expected, however. She immediately began insinuating that perhaps I wasn't being truthful with her about essential issues of trust in our relationship. She's smart enough not to come out and say it, but the implication was that, yet again, I was carrying on with some sort of romantic affair. Her evidence for this was the fact that I hadn't been coming home late a week ago. Obviously, according to her, something had changed in the week she'd been in Ann Arbor. Rational arguments on my part were useless, she was dealing on a deranged emotional level.
She followed me out to my bicycle to continue the argument as I tried to leave, but I couldn't take it any more. I pounded my bicycle seat a few times in a blind fury and then rode away while a plane passing overhead drowned out Kim's shouting.
The thing is, having to stay late at work is a terribly embarrassing thing for me. I don't like talking about it, I certainly don't like arguing about it. I'd like to think about more pleasant issues and just get this thing the fuck behind me. But, no matter how irrational it is, no matter that it violates State labour laws, staying late is one of the unwritten rules of my workplace, especially as a gaggle of idiotically unrealistic deadlines approaches during the mid-summertime. It's tied-in with the company's death march culture.
We're called into a big meeting and, later, several small ones.
Many ominous examples of new competition are announced.
Then we, the engineers, are told we have to build an improved version of Yahoo on an entirely new, unproven architecture over the course of two months or our stock options are worthless.
We're also told we that in the old days people cheerfully worked seven 18 hour days each week. We're alerted to set aside our weekends.
But no one promises us we're going to earn more money for working like this.
A variation of "the Project Management System" is supposed to reward our extra industry, but that's only if we fulfill pipe-dream metrics that no one takes seriously.
Meanwhile, attempts to hire new engineers fall flat because word has leaked out into the San Diego labour pool that our company is a digital sweatshop.
Routinely I hear the various VPs and directors arguing about potential hires, and nearly all of the best candidates are shot down for not being the right "cultural fit": they're too arrogant, they have too many hobbies, they have too many friends, they have too much education (and are thus too expensive), they're too old and could never make the sacrifices.
It's telling for me when my jaded ears hear this talk.
Frequently I act like I'm tuned into my work, my headphones on and my eyes staring intently at my screen.
But I'm listening and I'm thinking, "I can't believe I actually work here.
What if they really knew who I am and what I really think of this dismal place?"
So, yes, I've begun staying later at work. It's not that I'm actually getting any more work done; the office typically becomes a cacophonous zoo after 6:00pm anyway, with people throwing balls and loudly playing interactive net-based computer games. But, as I've said before, appearances are everything in my workplace. If only I didn't have to sacrifice so much domestic tranquility to make this superficial show.
I wrote Kim an email explaining this situation in my typically terse all-lower-case email style. I told her that I didn't need her advice, that I didn't want to argue, but that I needed her faith, support and understanding during this period in my life and that if she couldn't give it to me then I'd either shoot myself in the head or leave her. She wrote back saying she loved me very much and had chosen to support me. My day definitely improved after that.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?990719 feedback
previous | next |
