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Sometimes I write because I like to write. And sometimes those pieces never get published here (or anywhere for that matter) because they have nothing to do with training or cooking. You know... because training and cooking go hand in hand. Duh. :P
This morning while catching up on Seth's Blog (thanks g!), I came across an article he wrote a little over a week ago and it seemed like a sign for me to post my unrelated piece. Heck, it's my blog, I can do whatever I want. :)
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My business is typically hired as an insurance policy in case sh*t happens. In most cases, we have a thankless job because the client associates us with the problem. Rarely, and when I say "rarely", I mean never, do we receive a call from a client stating: "Hey, everything is working great, just wanted to call and see how you're doing." No, we typically receive a call where the client states: "The world is on fire, get over here yesterday and fix it!" That is typically followed by: "Why did you let this happen?"
Friday morning I received one of those calls where the world was on fire. I arrived on site at 10am and worked patiently through the problem for the next 10 hours while freezing my ass off in a cold server room without a jacket and without food. Fortunately I had a box of crunchy bars in the car and was able to sneak out a couple of times in order to keep from starving (and freezing) to death.
Most problems are solved quickly but this turned out to be two problems -- one stacked on top of another. The first was solved quickly but the second took most of the day. I had to close the door to the server room a few times in order to get privacy from those who felt the need to pace back and forth in the entrance. I felt like shouting: "A watched pot never boils!" That's not really true because I've watched many pots and they eventually boil but you get the point.
Towards the end of the day, the CEO asked for an estimate on how long it would take to solve the problem. I gave him my best guess and told him I would probably have to work through the weekend. He apologized but I told him it was par for the course. Fortunately the process completed faster than what I had expected and I was able to get everything back to normal at 8pm. At the time of my departure, I fired off an email letting everyone, including the CEO, that all was well in the world again.
Regardless of how the problem occurred, how long I had to work on it, or whether I was able to resolve the problem, I expect a blame storm in the days to follow. Again, par for the course but it's a bitter pill to swallow when I spend my Friday night working when I'd rather be home with my wife.
As I was making my way home through the traffic on their way to Lake Tahoe, I received an email from the CEO where he thanked me for my work. I don't actually need to be thanked because I get paid for this type of work but it's nice to be thanked.
While thinking about all of this, I was reminded of a friend who has since passed away. He was an ex-police officer who I met in his second life as a jack-of-all-trades office manager for a crazy person who was recently convicted of some sort of financial scam and sentenced to many years in prison. (I just found that out two weeks ago!)
My friend would never tell anyone he was a police officer. Instead, he opted for a lie. In the event someone asked what he did for a living, he would tell them he was a street sweeper and gave them various pieces of information about the vehicle he drove to clean the streets. I recall something about the dimensions of the large cylindrical brush and the temperature of the water. It was all a load of crap but his point was that people rarely complain about street sweepers. On the other hand, police officers are not liked so much -- unless of course you know one. And even then, you might complain about another. People complained to him about other police officers, he got tired of it, and started his lie. It cracked me up!
In a world where you can have thousands of friends through hundreds of social networking sites, the truth is (according to Dunbar's Number) that we are only able to maintain 150 active relationships. I'm still at 149 because I'm having a hard time filling the large vacancy which was previously occupied by my good friend the "street sweeper".
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