![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I started the day infeliciously, by sleeping over a meeting with a number of researchteam and an external vendor. However, by all reports it involved less signal than noise, and there are many further questions. I shall bang on it until candy falls out.
Another group contacted me for an internal pilot with another external vendor. I will also bang on that one until candy falls out. There was much cynicism in #VirtualH, with very little spilling over to #cupcake.
Vampire Teeth Dev, the officemate of Lennon Glasses Guy, rather charmingly seems to think I possess more knowledge about the actual whereabouts of Purple than the average guy at the lunch table. It is possible. This time, I had no extra knowledge, just I knew Purple's car was in the parking lot and he'd sent out the lunch ping, but I hadn't seen him yet. He'd gotten collared by someone else with a problem right after sending the lunch ping, was what had happened.
I spent the bulk of the afternoon screaming into wikis on a small number of topics:
* What is going on with the researchteam's SaaS thing?
* What is going on with the upcoming conference?
* Maps.
Mid-afternoon, a large selection of #cupcake descended upon my cube, and met Researcher Haystack. They then swept me off to the Milkshake Dungeon. I have been careful to get things which don't have lactose, which helps things. Purple discovered to his dismay that "heat this up a bit" for the blueberry danish involved a microwave. lb got a cheese danish with "one degenerate blueberry". I got a picture.
Teenage girls have a reputation for giggling. I have been a teenage girl. I believe that it is safe to say that a group of grown techdudes (give or take) watching/narrating/explaining/listening to a clip from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food_Party can rival that.
My teammate Rocky, the 11+ -year man, has taken to setting whatever cup he happens to be holding on the corner of the further team table when he heads into the bathroom. This is a sensible habit. The problem comes in when he forgets he had been carrying a cup once he emerges. This is not actually a problem when it's a work-cup or a compostable one, but when it's a special cup, there's always the unfortunate chance that someone walking by might pick it up. (I don't know of anyone who would be asshole enough to take a clearly personal cup, but sometimes it's a swag cup and people do sometimes divest themselves of same, so it's not always clear.) This time it was a swag cup from a particular event, and I knew he wouldn't want to lose it. I also didn't feel quite like picking it up and trotting it over to his office. So I grabbed the blue tape.
Shortly after that, I was drawn out of my wiki-whacking trance by the sound of giggling, and an iPhone.
( Read more... )
Madam Standards was trying to power through some stuff today. I poked my head around the corner of her office mid-afternoon; she was In The Writing Zone, but did want to chat later. I poked back just after five-ish, when she was so far into the zone she didn't seem to register me appearing at all. I went to get my own coffee refill, and grabbed a bonus mug with hot water, three bags of tea (mint, Earl Grey, and passionfruit, so at least one was bound to be reasonable), a couple packets of sweetener, a stirring stick, and one of the little cheeses. I slid it onto her desk and let her get back to it.
"How did you know?"
It's mint, apparently. I made a note.
Purple was working on stuff, and I was walloping at my inbox, so we stayed fairly late. Eventually the need for dinner became an issue. We did stop to chat. It was a lovely warm-compared-to-places-which-are-not-California (and not uncomfortably chilly for California) night under the waning moon with the soft song of at least three owls (two mostly in tune, one contrasting), backed up by at least three leafblowers, punctuated by bursts of police siren echoing back through the parking lot.
I learned that one joking term for the thing where two police cars pull up side-by-side into the cutouts of canyon-walled divided highways and roll down their windows to chat, is "cop-ulation". *groan*
The hug bonked my nose (gently but startlingly) with Purple's shoulder, which wound up silly.
I was tired and hungry, and now I'm mostly just tired. Nora's been sick. I'm cooking up some bacon, some for now and some for later. It smells good.
Another group contacted me for an internal pilot with another external vendor. I will also bang on that one until candy falls out. There was much cynicism in #VirtualH, with very little spilling over to #cupcake.
Vampire Teeth Dev, the officemate of Lennon Glasses Guy, rather charmingly seems to think I possess more knowledge about the actual whereabouts of Purple than the average guy at the lunch table. It is possible. This time, I had no extra knowledge, just I knew Purple's car was in the parking lot and he'd sent out the lunch ping, but I hadn't seen him yet. He'd gotten collared by someone else with a problem right after sending the lunch ping, was what had happened.
I spent the bulk of the afternoon screaming into wikis on a small number of topics:
* What is going on with the researchteam's SaaS thing?
* What is going on with the upcoming conference?
* Maps.
Mid-afternoon, a large selection of #cupcake descended upon my cube, and met Researcher Haystack. They then swept me off to the Milkshake Dungeon. I have been careful to get things which don't have lactose, which helps things. Purple discovered to his dismay that "heat this up a bit" for the blueberry danish involved a microwave. lb got a cheese danish with "one degenerate blueberry". I got a picture.
Teenage girls have a reputation for giggling. I have been a teenage girl. I believe that it is safe to say that a group of grown techdudes (give or take) watching/narrating/explaining/listening to a clip from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food_Party can rival that.
My teammate Rocky, the 11+ -year man, has taken to setting whatever cup he happens to be holding on the corner of the further team table when he heads into the bathroom. This is a sensible habit. The problem comes in when he forgets he had been carrying a cup once he emerges. This is not actually a problem when it's a work-cup or a compostable one, but when it's a special cup, there's always the unfortunate chance that someone walking by might pick it up. (I don't know of anyone who would be asshole enough to take a clearly personal cup, but sometimes it's a swag cup and people do sometimes divest themselves of same, so it's not always clear.) This time it was a swag cup from a particular event, and I knew he wouldn't want to lose it. I also didn't feel quite like picking it up and trotting it over to his office. So I grabbed the blue tape.
Shortly after that, I was drawn out of my wiki-whacking trance by the sound of giggling, and an iPhone.
( Read more... )
Madam Standards was trying to power through some stuff today. I poked my head around the corner of her office mid-afternoon; she was In The Writing Zone, but did want to chat later. I poked back just after five-ish, when she was so far into the zone she didn't seem to register me appearing at all. I went to get my own coffee refill, and grabbed a bonus mug with hot water, three bags of tea (mint, Earl Grey, and passionfruit, so at least one was bound to be reasonable), a couple packets of sweetener, a stirring stick, and one of the little cheeses. I slid it onto her desk and let her get back to it.
"How did you know?"
It's mint, apparently. I made a note.
Purple was working on stuff, and I was walloping at my inbox, so we stayed fairly late. Eventually the need for dinner became an issue. We did stop to chat. It was a lovely warm-compared-to-places-which-are-not-California (and not uncomfortably chilly for California) night under the waning moon with the soft song of at least three owls (two mostly in tune, one contrasting), backed up by at least three leafblowers, punctuated by bursts of police siren echoing back through the parking lot.
I learned that one joking term for the thing where two police cars pull up side-by-side into the cutouts of canyon-walled divided highways and roll down their windows to chat, is "cop-ulation". *groan*
The hug bonked my nose (gently but startlingly) with Purple's shoulder, which wound up silly.
I was tired and hungry, and now I'm mostly just tired. Nora's been sick. I'm cooking up some bacon, some for now and some for later. It smells good.
