I feel as if my life is on a slippery slope to nowhere and gaining speed. I grew up thinking that my working career would mirror my father’s, and that my retirement would be earned along the way. I see now that retirement is something that will be denied me, just as a stable job has been.
I worked for almost 5 years at my first post-college job. I was a programmer for the State of Illinois. My title and salary advanced steadily until I ran into the boundaries of a small shop. The bureau chief didn’t want to promote me to the same level as the lead analyst, too many chiefs he said. I half heartedly looked for other position within the government but I knew its restrictive nature wasn’t for me.
Next I worked for a public utility for 8 and 1/2 years. It was a good job, filled with new challenges, and I again advanced quickly and steadily through the available titles. I started to think I had found a place to work the rest of my career. Then upper management gave the company away to a larger, near by utility. In the end nearly every one of the 80 people in the information technology department moved on to other jobs as the new owners already had an IT department. We weren’t needed.
This was the first time I felt rejection, the first time I discovered that jobs weren’t secure and guaranteed like the were in my father’s day. I clung to the job as long as I could refusing to see the hand-writing on the wall. Finally I took a consulting position so that I could stay in town.
Almost from the start I wasn’t happy with the new firm. They were more interested in my billable hours than in my happiness. The only bright spot in this period of my career was meeting and marrying my wife, Michele. Finally, after only 15 months I was ready to move on, and what a move. 2000 miles to the Pacific Northwest.
I took another consulting job, sight unseen, and we moved to Portland Oregon. It was a year of challenges and hardships, growth and fear. Consulting wasn’t any better for a large company than it had been for a small one. The one client who had needed my specialized skills had an economic downturn and I was benched.
I was immature enough to believe that I was responsible for the lack of new engagement, and so I turned tail and ran to a new position clear across the country. Not as a consultant this time, but as an employee. For a pre-IPO software firm.
My job there lasted on 9 months before the burn rate ate through the available funds. Panic set in and I was desperate for a new job. After a week or two of madness I eventually found a new job in town, avoiding yet another cross-country relocation. No sooner had I started the new job when the old one called and wanted me back. I had already put into motion a plan to return to Springfield and work independently, but I didn’t know when that would happen, so I returned to the IPO company for 3 more months.
We returned to Illinois in late 2000, and for the next 3 years rode a wild roller coaster of a ride. My contract rate was cut 10% by the client after just one year. All consultants had the rates cut, many were let go outright. The budget crises at the state was bad and getting worse. Last summer my first contract ended with no new contract in place. We spent a tense May and June waiting to see what would happen. At the last minute I was granted a 500 hour extension. 90 days for them to decide what to do next.
We sweated most of those 90 days wondering if I’d get a new contract, or another extension, or would I be out of work. A new extension, this one for 1500 hours was granted at the last minute. We thought the worst was behind us. We were wrong.
Barely a 6 weeks after the extension was in place the State wanted another rate reduction. Each vendor was pulled in and told what amount would be acceptable. Each vendor was expected to write a letter to the State “suggesting” the new rate as a way to help the State with its ongoing budget shortfall. In my case the suggested rate cut was 35%. This was huge blow. But short of moving there wasn’t any choice in the matter.
In 3 short years our plans of saving money and achieving some measure of financial independence had been destroyed. Repeated periods of slow reimbursement by the Comptroller’s Office had created huge cash flow problems. We had gotten ourselves way behind in our federal taxes. Financial freedom had nearly become financial ruin. Now to rub salt in this wound we would making over 45% less than the original plan called for.
The atmosphere between management and consultants, and even employees and consultants become strained, and some times hostile. What had been a bothersome place to work had become nearly unbearable. With the added financial strain something had to give.
The something that gave was me. I stopped playing by the rules and pushed the envelop. I dared them to notice me as person, and not just as a cog in the machine. They only noticed that the cog had gotten sharp, and they removed it from the machine.
What seemed so simple and clear 20 years ago as a career in data processing followed by a retirement is now muddied and confused. After two seemingly stable jobs, with planned retirement included, spanning nearly 13 years, I’ve had 4 jobs in 7 years, been forced out once, laid off once, given the chance to leave once, and fired. I have no retirement plan. I have no savings left. Michele and I will be lucky to clear what we originally put down on this house when it sells.
Sure, the house will sell, and we can pay off all that we borrowed here. We’ll be able to start over in the next town. But starting over after 20 years on the job is painfully hard. Based on recent experience how can I expect the next job to last more than a couple of years? Moving to an area with a larger market for experienced technology workers will help. But moving itself is daunting. Knowing full well that there will be other moves, perhaps in 2 years, or maybe 5, makes it all the harder to push through the inertia holding us back.
All I ever wanted was to have a job that challenged me mentally and professionally while providing me with a decent retirement when I was 65. All I’ve gotten is the increasingly pointed message that my desires as a person mean nothing to the corporate goal of profit.
My job today is getting up and scanning the job boards for new postings to craft a cover letter for, new postings to send my resume to, new postings to hang a little bit of myself on in hopes of a better future. It is the hardest job in the world.
For the past week I have been dealing with the emotional fallout of losing my job. My wife and I have talked about many options, and many geographical solutions to this situation. No less than six states and two countries have been considered in our search for the next place.
With each new location there would be an initial rush of anticipation and even elation thinking we had found the answer that would suit us best. But each burst of elation was soon followed by another round of despair and hopelessness for me. I couldn’t ever see us in any of these locations. I couldn’t in my mind’s eye imagine life there.
Each failed attempt to envision us in a new town, with a new job and life, pushed me further into depression. Thoughts about the meaning of this lifetime became very figure, and thoughts of finding a way to end this life started to fill my mind. I believe that each of us has lived many lifetimes in the past, and will live many more in the future. Our essence is here in this physical plane to learn lessons necessary to advance beyond this place of fear and anger once and for all. Maybe the lesson of this lifetime has been learned, and I can leave this frenetic and confused life behind for another.
This morning Michele and I again talked of new places and new adventures. Again I felt the sense of elation and anticipation that had accompanied each prior prospect. This time however, the elation hasn’t faded as far or as fast. Perhaps my life lesson isn’t over just yet. Perhaps there are still things to be gained here in this plane of existence.
Leaving is easy. It just means you are done with the trials and tribulations of this particular lifetime. Leaving before all the lessons your essence wanted from this lifetime merely means you’ll get them again, more forcefully, in another lifetime. Staying is, at times, harder to do. It takes courage to admit you have more to learn. There is much good in my life this time, and I feel very connected to being here. Knowing that I can sever that connection when and how I choose, gives me the strength to continue.
The past few days have been filled with the ever enjoyable “if only” game. If only I hadn’t been so curious about interconnecting computers through a firewall. If only I hadn’t taken this job in Illinois. If only…, if only.
I understand that “if only” is an entirely human reaction to traumatic events. It’s part of how we process a life changing event that happens outside of our control. Losing your job may or may not be the worst thing that happens in your lifetime, but it certainly isn’t fun.
In my moments of despair and defeat the “if onlys” weigh heavily on me. Looking back at my life all I can see are the “wrong” choices, the places where I made the choices that led to my current situation. There are two problems with this line of thinking. One, you can’t go back and undo the choice. Once made you have to suffer or enjoy the consequences. And two, even if you could travel back in time to alter your decision, you’d lose all the good parts of your life today.
You see your life today, good and bad, is the sum of all your prior actions. Eliminate the ones you think are bad or wrong, and you also eliminate the result of the good ones. Usually talking to Michele helps me to see that I really didn’t do anything wrong in this case, or in the past. Talking to her also reenforces the part of my life that is still good. Losing my job may have thrust us into a period of turmoil and upset, but it hasn’t altered the trust or love we have for each other.
This being the fourth time I’ve been reluctantly out of work you’d think I’d be used to the emotional roller coaster ride that accompanies the experience. You’d think that but you’d be wrong.
In the four days since my contract was cancelled my wife and I have run the gamut of emotions from anger to despair, from tentative optimism to abject hopelessness. The first day or two was as close to emotional flat line as we could get and still be alive. We stumbled around our home doing normal things without really connecting to life. Making our favorite dish in order to be nice to ourselves was just an exercise in going through the motions. we were mechanically involved in the process, but there was no emotional attachment.
Now, four days into this latest lesson of life, there are moments of near normalcy. Which is good, but they only serve to accentuate the feelings of despair and displacement. We know that in time we will be okay again. That normalcy will return to our lives. We just know don’t know when, or what form it will take.
That is the worst part, not knowing. When your life is “normal” you have some idea of what is coming. You’ve got plans, hopes, things in motion. Then the rug is yanked out from underneath you. You fall. You get hurt, and, after a time, you get up and dust yourself off. Now you have to start over with new plans, new hopes, putting new things in motion. All of this takes a huge amount of energy and belief in yourself. And at a time when belief in yourself is low.
All of this would be impossible to survive if not for the love and support of my partner in this life, Michele. She has her own roller coaster through this latest twist in our life, and yet she is there for me when I need her. She is my safe place to fall. And I am trying my very best to be hers, because that is what I have now. And that is a very good thing to have.
Several days ago my PowerBook started exhibiting some rather odd symptoms. Typing in any of the Cocoa applications (Safari, TextEdit, X-Pad, et cetera) produced doubled punctuation and double spaces between words. And just for variety, icons in the toolbar of Mail refused to work. Click on the compose icon and no window appeared. Quit Mail and restart it and then you’d get the window. Not a useful feature.
Some google searching reveled one or two postings about a third party spelling library (cocoAspell) that had caused similar problems. Having once had that library installed I did a seek and destroy on my hard drive and got rid of all traces of it. Still no luck typing.
Another post suggested removing an obscure plist in the ~/Library/Caches folder; again no change in the typing situation.
So I broke down and called Apple Support. My PowerBook is over a year old, and I didn’t opt for the extended service contract. At $350 for PowerBooks I thought it was too expensive. Per-incident costs are only $49. So I’m still ahead $300.
To make a long story somewhat shorter, trashing the contents of the ~/Library/Caches folder, and the ~/Library/ByHost folder didn’t solve the problem. Nor did moving the Preferences, Preference Panes, Fonts, and Application Support folders to the desktop and logging off and back on.
What finally did the trick was renaming the ~/Library folder to ~/Library.old and relogging into the computer. Copying the four orphaned folders from the desktop to the new ~/Library folder did not recreate the problem.
So somewhere in the ~/Library.old folder is the problem. If after a few weeks I haven’t needed anything from that folder, it’ll be headed into the trash too.
Thanks to Kevin from Apple for patiently walking me through all the steps to sort this bug out.
Previously on this site I have written about using secure shell and port forwarding to access the internet without exposing the details of my actions to network monitoring. Originally it was an expression of my curiosity; using ssh was something new, it was exposure to the Unix underbelly of my Macintosh, as well as the workings of TCP/IP, firewalls, and networks.
I have always wanted to know how things worked, and that curiosity has largely driven my career. From my very first exposure to computers in the middle 1970’s I have been more interested in how the programs and protocols worked than in actually using the applications created with them. I chose to be a programmer because it focused on the bits and bytes behind the scenes.
Network administration at my client recently closed the open proxy that was being used by many people to access instant messaging and the internet. I was sorry to see the easy access path taken away, and my curiosity got the better of me. I started looking around to see if there was another way to gain access.
I drew two kinds of attention to myself. First, I explored and poked around the network infrastructure at my client. I was curious and I wanted to know more about how it all worked. Second, and I think more damning in the end, I wrote about my discoveries here, on this web site. Explaining about secure shell and port forwarding was done out of the joy of learning something new and wanting to share my knowledge. Exploring how I felt when the access opening was closed was just another in a long line of postings I have made about my internal emotional and intellectual processes.
The net effect of my curiosity, and my penchant for recording my thoughts here, was the termination of my contract by my client. To lose my job as a result of my actions is something I can live with. Presented with the same or similar circumstances again I would in all likelihood make the same actions. I am intensely curious by nature and driven to understand how things work. To deny that part of my makeup would be to lie to myself about my truth.
I stand by my actions and I accept full responsibility for them. I have always tried to live with the understanding that my actions have consequences and that I alone am responsible for them. What I am having a harder time grasping and accepting is the reaction to entries I made on this web site. In particular the posting about losing my access was sited during the conversation that resulted in my termination.
I debated for a long time about making that access denied posting, but in the end my need to share my thoughts and emotions as a part of my growth in this life led me to publish that article. Was that the sole reason for my termination? No. Was it a contributing factor? It appears so. I am not the first ( do a Google search on ‘dooced’ ), nor will I be the last person who in some way, shape or form, has her or his employment status altered because of self publishing on the internet.
Groucho Marx once said that he wouldn’t want to be a part of any organization that would have him. I’m relived to no longer be a part of an organization that doesn’t want all that I am, feel, or think.
I haven’t done a friday five in a long time, but I ran across this set of questions today, and wanted to post my answers. So here goes:
What was the last song you heard? “Hurts to Hear” by Stephanie Quayle
What were the last two movies you saw? At home: Open Range and Secondhand Lions In the theater: Lord of The Rings: Return of the King, and Matrix Revolutions
What were the last three things you purchased? Tootsie Pops, Xerox Multi-purpose paper, frozen chicken strips (gotta love Sam’s Club.)
What four things do you need to do this weekend? Visit Sam’s club (done). Install SuSE Linux on old PC to use a ssh server (in progress). Travel to brother’s house for niece’s 3rd birthday party (later today). And last, but not least, make chilli and a chocolate frosted yellow cake (on tap tomorrow.)
Who are the last five people you talked to? My wife Michele, my nephew AJ, a coworker, Dave, another coworker Bob, and my boss, Tony.
This evening my wife and I watched an episode of “Now” on PBS that we had previously recorded on our TiVo. The bulk of the show was an interview with the Reverend William Sloane Coffin. During the free-wheeling interview Reverend Coffin made the following statement about faith:
“Faith is not believing without proof. Faith is trusting without reservation.'
For most of my adult life I have vigorously resisted the idea of faith because I defined it as belief without proof. I have always been moved by empirical data; and living my life based in something I couldn’t point to, something I couldn’t prove seemed impossible to me.
However, re-framing the idea of faith as trust works for me. I know I can’t point to trust anymore than I can point to belief, but I live every day with trust. I trust my wife completely. I trust my friends and family. Driving the car to work each day requires a level of trust in the other drivers on the road. Without trust life as I understand it would be impossible.
Perhaps I’m splitting hairs saying that I can trust when I can’t believe. But for me the language used to talk about an idea is vitally important. Saying belief without proof leaves me intractable and unwilling be open and accepting. Saying trust without reservation gives me a pathway to openness and accepting. I can start without trusting at all, and over time identify and address my reservations. Ultimately I could reach trust without reservation. Belief without proof is always without proof, it’s all or nothing.
In the past few years I have been questing for spirituality, for a pathway to understanding. I’ve always felt that without faith I couldn’t achieve this goal. Thanks to the Reverend Coffin I now have a working definition of faith that works for me.
I’ve been tinkering around with my other site, Partition Software. New colors, new overall layout, same old content. Two out of three ain’t bad.
You should go check it out.
The behavior of the Chapera tribe last night on Survivor All Stars was disgraceful. Violence against women, whether sexual, emotional, or physical is epidemic in the world today. The words and actions of the Chapera tribe clearly show why this problem is so prevalent and why it won’t go away until men stand up and speak out against the kind of shunning and dismissal that Susan experienced.
The point that all the people there seemed to miss, is that abuse is in the eye of the abused. Susan felt abused and attacked, what anyone else felt is immaterial to the discussion. Based on the footage of Susan from the first season of Survivor, and from earlier episodes of this season, it is plain to me that Susan is tough, thick skinned, and not given to altering her behavior to please or appease others. And yet her personality and presentation were radically, profoundly altered after Richard Hatch rubbed himself against her during a competition. Her emotional affect was inward and subdued, she stopped eating or sleeping. Clearly the impact of his actions left her shattered and ultimately unable to continue the game.
The members of Chapera all displayed a shocking lack of sympathy or caring for her plight. Big Tom, who has repeatedly been dismissive to women on this show both in Panama and in Africa, had the affront to dance a jig singing “the witch is dead.” His abuse of Susan is just as egregious as Richard Hatch’s. Perhaps worse because he is cowardly attacking someone who is already down. Boston Rob is a misogynist troglodyte asshole who thinks that just because he’s tough he is also intelligent. I am ashamed to share my gender with examples of machismo such as these two.
I am most disappointed in Rupert. Tom and Rob have displayed their colors openly and consistently throughout their first seasons on Survivor, and continued to do so on Survivor All Stars. For Rupert to jump on the “blame the victim” bandwagon was a major shift in how I perceived him. As a male in this society I know first hand how difficult it is to stand up to the gutter think that happens when two or more buffoons like Tom and Rob get together. I had hoped that Rupert, who openly talked about being on the receiving end of abuse growing up as the odd kid out, would have spoken out against the smearing of Susan. Instead he enabled the continuation of women as victims by participating in the abuse from Tom and Rob.
As for the women on Chapera, they let down their gender by not speaking out. The fact that Kathy said Susan should just get a hold of her emotions tells me that Kathy was abused sexual in her past. And further that she never confronted her attacker, or brought to light the incident. Susan did bring to light the attack, and did indirectly confront Richard. In my opinion Kathy’s vehemence towards Susan is really anger directed at herself for never having the courage to stand up and speak out about her own abuse.
The other women just meekly went along with the antics of the “men”; no matter how downcast their eyes were they still voted to support the second attack against Susan through their silence and inaction.
As an adult male in this society I take on the responsibility to speak out against violence against anyone. I will not stand idly by while trash talking, or “boys will be boys” behavior is displayed. I will not abrogate my membership in the human race to a group of hurt and angry people who just want to hurt others to mask their own pain.
Shame on you Richard Hatch for being so insensitive to the feelings and personal space of others. Shame on you Rob and Tom for being boorish cretins who exemplify all that is wrong with machismo. Shame on you Rupert for not living up to the glimpses of the real you we see in brief flashes. Shame on you Kathy for taking your anger at yourself out on another woman who has been victimized. And shame on you Alicia, Amber and Jenna for just going along with it all.