And now for the first episode of "It Could Be Worse", a serial drama in N parts where N is an integer greater than five.
I heard the ka-chunk of a round being clicked into the breach of Daryl's shotgun, the wall behind me still shaking from the previous blast. "Where in Hell did you learn logic design?" he asked.
Before we get to my answer, perhaps I should tell you a little about myself and the other folks around here. I've been around for a while, but chances are we haven't met unless you've worked in the leisure seating control industry. Daryl and I first worked together at Ginantonix corporation back in the late seventies. That was a hell of a time. CMOS was just beginning to make inroads into leisure seating with the introduction of the Barcalounger 784 -- a four seat recliner with independent "posterior temperature control" ("butt warmers" to those not familiar with the technology). Daryl was an architect. Even then he seemed a little high strung for a guy who was designing stuff that was typically used to support beer-swilling, stuporous, football fans on lazy Sunday afternoons.
As you might guess, today is not one of his better days.
Apparently they were a little too stingy with the Lithium at the clinic this morning -- Daryl's in a pretty foul mood. Kind of a shame, really, since this is the day that the new co-ops show up. My newbie walked in this morning, a study in casual dress. He was wearing a T-shirt from his high-school alma mater. (The front proudly proclaims "Christian Martyrs High School -- Class of '94". The back, no doubt referring to their mascot, says simply "Go Lions!") The co-op's name is Francis Xavier (Skip) Mulvaney, of Wadena Minnesota. "It's just 40 miles south of Bemidji," he tells me earnestly -- as if I knew or cared where the hell Bemidji was.
From the look on Skippy's face, he hadn't encountered many shotgun wielding lunatics in Wadena or anywhere else for that matter. But I've seen Daryl like this before, and I am ready.
Episode 1 was brought to you by `Honkies' the facial tissue
that stands up to the most prominent proboscises. Honkies:
when you know it will take more than one blow.
Episode 2
In Episode 1 we left our narrator staring into the barrel of a Hemingway Special shotgun in the hands of Daryl the Lunatic Architect.
My office neighbor is always ready for anything. Jose is the kind of engineer who could re-create western civilization with enough duct tape, a few cans of WD-40 and a swiss army knife. He is a Guatamalan orphan raised by a well meaning, but clueless couple from Malden, Massachusetts. They thought changing his last name at the age of 12 would make him feel more "like a part of the family." They only went halfway though, and so I worked with Jose O'brien. He'd adjusted to the name, but you could still see the pain in his eyes every time he introduced himself to a woman in a bar. It's really tough to come up with a good line of patter while your companion is giggling hysterically.
Speaking of which, I'm about 5'7", a Virgo, love walks in the woods, cooking, and I keep a pretty clean house. My office, until its recent encounter with Daryl and the Remington Arms company, was neat as a pin. I like to keep it that way. My name is Sam -- Sam Iszdat. For the past few years, I've spent my days here at American Pathetix.
Jose's office looks like a cyclone hit it. It fits him. Jose is one of the most manic men I've ever known. Share a pitcher of beer with the guy and he'll always surprise you with something. Extremely well educated, and a fine engineer, he actually played minor league ball with the Bowie Baysox for a while. (His manager, on bidding Jose farewell, perhaps focused on too small a part of Jose's life when he said "He talks five languages, but can't hit a curve ball in any of them.")
As good as he is, Jose has managed to cheese off every manager he's ever worked for. He's a terrific engineer -- creative, disciplined, meticulous, but it's the practical jokes that screw it all up. Jose will finish part of a project weeks ahead of schedule, only to be left waiting idle by his colleagues. Then the spinning wheels in his head get to him. He can't sit still. That's how he came up with the idea of welding Jack Tate into a stall in the men's room.
Episode 2 was brought to you by Splat: the insecticide
that you apply with your shoe.
Episode 3
In Episode 2 we left our narrator staring into the barrel of a Hemingway Special shotgun in the hands of Daryl the Lunatic Architect. We've met Skippy the co-op and Jose O'brien, the maniacal engineer.
Jack Tate is your typical manager from Hell. At the age of twenty four he was told by a supervisor that he just wasn't cut out to be an engineer. So he was promoted to Engineering Supervisor. He's been Senior Engineering Manager for Advanced Seating Controllers here at American Pathetix since '79 and, next to the head of Accounting, is the most despised man in the building. Jack is the kind of guy you'd like to see welded into a stall in the men's room.
Jack rode Jose mercilessly from the Jose's very first day at work. The name wasn't an issue -- Jack has what a kind person would say is a "primitive" sense of humor (The rest of us just say "Jack is a moron") -- Jack picked on Jose for the fun of it. For all that, what really got Jose's goat was Jack's reluctance to spend money.
A few years ago Jose wanted to build twenty test fixtures for a new controller. The goal was to reproduce the seating environment and do some life cycle tests. Jack didn't want to spend the money on twenty power supplies, so he dug up one really big power supply for the whole lab out of the warehouse. Jose was incensed. All those wires winding all over the lab really offended him. So, Jose stayed up all night and built twenty little power supplies. At the end he had this really big power supply left over. And he was REALLY stoked on Jolt Cola. The rest is history. Jack entered stall three and latched the door. Jose hit the switch on the Lambda 20V 400Amp power supply and -- with a barely perceptible dimming of the lights -- welded the door shut. It took five hours for the door to cool down enough so that the maintenance folks could extricate Jack Tate. After that, their relationship went from bad to worse.
Jose is fortunate that our project leader is very good at keeping Jack from getting in the way.
Episode 3 was brought to you by St. Swithen's Academy for
Really Rich Kids: Over 20 Years in the persuit of exsellants.
Episode 4
In Episode 3 we left our narrator staring into the barrel of a Hemingway Special shotgun in the hands of Daryl the Lunatic Architect. We've met Skippy, Sam, Jose, and Jack. Daryl is patiently waiting while we meet one more character at American Pathetix.
Ramona Fielding sits on the other side of my office. Ramona is my boss. She's the project leader for the PostureSure(tm) controller we're working on. Ramona holds the patent for the PostureSure(tm) mechanism that, if properly adjusted, can actually improve the posture of a teenager who sits in a PostureSure(tm) Leisure Chair for three hours a day. Note however, that our primary market is beer-swilling football fans. As it turns out, if the PostureSure(tm) is adjusted improperly, it can prolong and even deepen a beer buzz. Ramona is a legend in the industry. We sell lots of PostureSure(tm) chairs. Ramona is the only person in the building who can control Daryl.
Ramona has a BSEE from Stevens Institute in Hoboken New Jersey. Stevens made her a very good engineer, but Hoboken made her a Frank Sinatra fan. So Ramona is a prime candidate for "Karaoke Nite" at the local joint. We make it a point to spend some time at the "Tap and Dye" (a combination bar and hair salon that is now much more bar than hair salon) run by Tommy ("The Mop") Pesci. Every Wednesday evening we can count on Ramona to belt out a couple of Sinatra numbers in a voice so earnest it can make you cry. It would be better if Ramona could carry a tune. (Last week Tommy pleaded with me, "Hey Sam, why don't you make it a duet huh? And, like, sing real loud willya. Geez-o-wiz she sounds like a bull moose in mating season.")
So, like I was saying, Daryl has just fired a few rounds of buckshot into my "History of Leisure Seating Computers" poster and has pretty much destroyed my collection of herbal teas from around the world.
Episode 4 was funded by contributing readers, like you.
And by the John and Flora Hewitt Foundation.
And by the letter "Q".
Episode 5
In Episode 4 we left our narrator staring into the barrel of a Hemingway Special shotgun in the hands of Daryl the Lunatic Architect. We've met Skippy, Sam, Jose, Jack and Ramona. Daryl is more than a little cranky. It's about time we had some action around here.
"So, Daryl," I cheerfully chirp, "is there an issue that we could address in a mutually supportive environment that values the contribution that each of us can make to the success of the organization?" This is a mistake, as Daryl plants a round in my David Letterman autographed hairpiece stand in reply. Aside from being irritable, Daryl doesn't seem to be in a talkative mood. But we should all learn to value non-verbal expressions.
I can hear Ramona over the wall talking on the telephone. She's called security. At another time, this might be funny, but I can hear her side of the dialog, and it doesn't sound good:
Uh, we've got a little problem up here with a cranky individual contributor who has gone berserk more or less. (pause) Well, he's got a shotgun. (pause) No, I'm sure it is a shotgun, or some kind of gun. It has made a bunch of holes in the wall here. (pause) I don't know how he got it in the building. Maybe he signed it in on the "personal property log". (pause) Well, his name is Daryl Marlin. (pause) I'll wait while you look it up. (pause)
At this point Ramona pokes her head over the wall and wispers to me, "Holy cow Sam! He checked the shotgun at the front desk as personal property. He told them it was a walking stick." But there's a funny gleam in Ramona's eyes. Like I said, she knows how to handle Daryl.
Episode 5 was brought to you by the NRA -- we're not just
a bunch of raving right wing nutballs. We've got lobbyists.
Episode 6
In Episode 5 we found that Daryl checked his shotgun in as personal property after telling the receptionist that it was a walking stick.
Daryl may be cranky at times, but he's always compulsive. Ramona knows this better than most, since she has known him since before the big "butt warmer cancer" scare that sunk Ginantonix back in '83 and made high-tech refugees out of Daryl, Ramona, and me.
"Daryl," she says, "The security desk is concerned that they might not have gotten the serial number right on your ``walking stick.'' Could you read off the numbers for me?"
Daryl starts to read the numbers from the weapon. I lunge. In the ensuing struggle the gun goes off twice. The first round destroys a perfectly good coffee mug (a gift from my mother: "Sit up straight. Eat your vegetables. Call your mother once in a while.").
Skippy takes the second round in the kneecap, but this is his first term, and he's only here for three months, so he won't have to move around much. "Awjeess! Ohyah, that's really smartin' dere" he says in his smurf-like Minnesota accent.
I wrench the weapon from Daryl's fevered grip. Jose gets hold of Daryl's hands and duct tapes them to the desk leg. "Daryl, whuddya say we find a conference room and thrash this out," I suggest.
Daryl croaks in reply, "Bring Wilma and Sparky."
Well, the day had started off not-so-good. It is now looking like a really bad morning.
Episode 6 was brought to you by American Casualty and
Catastrophe -- insurance agents for working Americans.
Remember: insurance can't compensate for the loss of a
loved one, but it sure can take the edge off.
Episode 7
In Episode 6, Daryl has been subdued, but demands a meeting with the team and ``Wilma and Sparky''.
Wilma and Sparky are the CAD group at American Pathetix. Why do we have a CAD group? Because leisure seating controllers are DIFFERENT, that's why. (At least that's what the "Official CAD Group T-shirt" says.)
It isn't that I don't like Wilma and Sparky, it's that they don't like me. "Every Time I see you, ya got a complaint or sumpin'" Wilma told me one day. The two of us got off to a bad start when we first met five years ago. I heard that she was from Edmonton, and made some remark about the fact that she had really good teeth for a person who probably grew up playing hockey. How was I to know that, like the stars in the sky, her teeth came out at night?
Then again, the second member of the CAD duo is a little sore because I, Sam Iszdat, gave Charles Harold Thurston-Jones the nickname "Sparky". (CHT-J decided one morning to ignore the "No User Serviceable Parts Inside, Refer Service to Qualified Personel" sticker on his coffeepot and launched a screwdriver into the wall and a shower of sparks into the ceiling. I thought "Sparky" was the least offensive name we could tag him with. "Spot" was a close second.)
Any morning that ends in a meeting with me, a wounded co-op, an agitated project leader, a manic engineer, and a lunatic architect wrapped in duct tape is not going to make my "top ten best mornings" list. Adding the CAD group isn't going to make ANYBODY any happier.
But what the hell, if a guy takes the initiative to shoot up your office and maim your co-op, I think he deserves a little respect.
Episode 7 was brought to you by Soma: A gram is better
than a damn. Watch out for the rats.
Episode 8
In Episode 7, we heard about Wilma and Sparky. Daryl wants a team meeting. Skippy is limping badly but has maintained his cheerful Minnesota outlook.
We're sitting in the Ralph Cramden conference room waiting for Wilma and Sparky. All the conference rooms at American Pathetix are named for Joe Sixpacks from television to "keep us focused on the customer". I'm not sure how our customers would feel, knowing that we think of them as a nation of Al Bundys, Ralph Cramdens, Fred Flintstones, and Archie Bunkers. (The Archie Bunker conference room is located below ground level, so it has been unofficially renamed the "Archie Bunker Bunker.") There is also a clear class distinction. The most plush (executive) conference rooms are named for Steve Douglas, Ward Cleaver, Doctor Stone, and Daddy (nobody could remember the name of the father from "Father Knows Best"). The Jed Clampett conference room is used for storage.
As we're waiting, a cadre of security folks rush by. They are apparently looking for us, because I can see them searching over a map for my cubicle. They didn't even have time to put down their donuts. Dribbling powdered sugar all over the hallways, they're violating all kinds of safety rules. (Note to me: be sure to file a safety report -- powdered sugar on hallway floors. Jeez, this place is getting more dangerous all the time.)
The security folks would do a lot better if they looked for the sign I suspended from the ceiling saying "Sam Iszdat Sits Here" with an arrow pointing at my chair. The clouds of smoke rising from the still smoldering office decorations might also give them a hint.
Jack Tate, however, knows where I sit. He may be dim, but he knows that every trail of blood probably ends in a "management situation".
Episode 8 was brought to you by Einbinder Flypaper.
This holiday season give the gift that keeps on giving:
Einbinder Flypaper.
Episode 9
In Episode 8, we were waiting in the conference room for Wilma and Sparky. The security guards have run by, but Jack Tate has found the crew by following the trail of blood that Skippy left behind.
"Holy Moses Sam! Did anybody get hurt?" Jack says to me. (I'm not sure how else he might be accounting for the crimson trail at this point.)
"Nobody was hurt, but our new co-op took a shot to the kneecap."
"Jeeeez, do you know what kind of paperwork that is going to bury me under? Run over him in the parking lot and make it look like an accident." Jack is a quick thinker when it reduces his workload.
"The wound will heal, Jack. It's not worth killing him over the paperwork."
At this point, Skippy chimes in with a smurfy "really I'm okiedokie Mr. Tate" and dances a pathetic little jig around the table. He's game, but pale, even for a Minnesotan. The charade is taking its toll. Jose whips out a roll of duct tape and his swiss army knife. In a few minutes it is all over. Skippy will recover soon, and now he has a shiny new stump.
Memo to Ramona: Maybe we should get the kneecap mounted and add it to Daryl's office trophy collection.
Wilma and Sparky arrive. We can't start the meeting though, because Ramona has ducked out to make a phone call to the company health provider. (The company contracts with "Bill and Ted's Excellent Health Maintenance Organization and Auto Insurance Company." BTEHMOAIC will send the forms over next week, though they'd like Skippy to see three primary care providers for an estimate of the damage before seeking any extraoridinary medical procedures.)
Episode 9 was brought to you by the National Association
of Broadcasters. Be thankful this isn't on television.
Episode 10
In Episode 9, Jose fixed Skippy's wound. Wilma and Sparky have arrived.
Ramona returns and we settle down to business. Jose turns to the coffee tap in the wall of the Ralph Cramden conference room. (Several years ago, Jose spent his vacation installing coffee taps in each of the engineering conference rooms. Management hasn't caught on yet, as each tap is labled "Frame Relay Hydraulic Drop #715". We've had a couple of close calls however, when a few cerebrally challenged induhviduals plugged telephones into the taps.)
Wilma intones: "This better be good Sam, 'cause I've got better things to do than to listen to you whine." Then she sees Skippy's wound.
"Holy Moly! Jeez Sam, what the hell's going on here?" she says.
"He's a co-op, Wilma. Don't stare, he's already a little self conscious, this being his first day and all."
"Oh."
At this point, Daryl clears his throat and settles in to speak for what I am sure will be a long while. My mind wanders to a pleasant daydream.
In fact, Daryl rattles on aimlessly in the Ralph Cramden conference room for three hours. Just when it's getting to the point where we all wish he was a better shot, he comes to the point.
Daryl speaks: "It is too late for this chip, as we're almost ready to tapeout. But tomorrow is another day. There's no sense crying over spilled milk. Six of one half a dozen of another."
Maybe he's not going to get to the point after all.
Epsiode 10 was brought to you by `BigAss Canned Ham'. You
ain't talkin' HAM unless you're talking `BigAss Canned Ham'.
The Final Episode
In Episode 10, Daryl begins to verbalize his concerns about the course of the project. We are all hoping to become actualized and empowered to reach our full potential.
Daryl draws a table on the white board like this:
Daryl explains: "I'm working the CIA thing on my own, so that takes care of 10% of the errors. There's not much that we can do about logic design errors, short of getting better designers." At this Jose bristles, and Daryl moves quickly to mollify him. "But we've got the best there are, this side of those guys in Desoto, MA". This appeares to calm Jose quickly.
Sparky interrupts with "Why are we here Daryl? You aren't going to go yammering on and on about bubbles again are you?"
Bad choice of words. Daryl reaches into his backpack and pulls out a fully automatic submarine sandwich with a 40 shot clip. I wonder what he told security when he brought that in. He pulls the trigger on the sandwich. The room explodes in a shower of hot metaWAKE UP STEVE! WAKE UP STEVE! WAKE UP!
Lisa pounds on Steve's shoulder in a frantic attempt to rouse him from his tormented slumber. Bruised and sweating profusely he awakens with a start. "Jeez, I better learn that bubble stuff. I wonder if there's a book I could read or somethin'."
"No more spam, peperoni, and peanutbutter `midnight snacks' for you, Mr. Sweaty Sheets," Lisa chides.
Baby Sarah squeals delightedly, "Daddy's a doofus." It is her first sentence.