I get by with a little help from my friends

There was a second part to my tale of weirdness and woe yesterday, which I should at least mention now. First, thanks to all who commented with such support and good advice. I also got some good advice from my friend Vinnie today, now a psychologist but formerly an antiques dealer back east in Trenton, NJ (ahem). He advised, just as Guy did, not to laugh at CEO Plankton's jokes and to talk with Alex about this guy's behavior, mostly as an FYI that this guy was setting off my fruitcake-Geiger counter. Also, be good and super-early for the Wednesday meetings in order to take away CEO-P's one source of childish power.

Rewind, if you will, back to yesterday afternoon, when I finally got to the office after this wretched meeting. I was so frustrated that I think Elliot and Derek saw steam coming off of me. Now, Elliot will get worked up with me when I'm pissed, but Derek is Mr. Calm. Nowadays since his little daughter was born a few months ago, he's Mr. Super Grand Funk Calm. "Having a little one puts things in perspective," he said. "You see how ridiculous a lot of stuff is. And you see how useless a lot of stress is...it's just worthless." As I told the story of my meeting, Derek nodded empathetically. "Man, that's really painful," he said. "That is so frustrating and awful! You can't even do anything because he's the CEO!"

Me: I wish I could. He acts like a child, for crying out loud.
Derek: Maybe next meeting, you bring doughnuts.
Me: Hmph. I oughta bring some pot brownies.
Derek: Haaaaahahaha! That'd be great! Pot brownies at 8am and then--[enticing voice] "It's ten o'clock--who's ready for lunch?"
Me: [singsong] Iiiiiii brooooooght Dor-eee-toooooos!
Derek: Haahahaaa! Bring in some big mylar balloons with smiley faces on them and hand them to him. [mimes holding out some balloon strings] "Someone needs cheering up!"
Me: Baaahahahaaaaa! Or give him a squeaky toy to squeeze when he gets mad! "How dare you be two minutes late--" [squeezing hand rapidly in air] honkahonkahonka!
Derek: Haahahaaa! Throw a chew toy in the floor and let him romp!
Me: [gasping for breath] Put him in timeout if he's gonna act like a child!
Derek: [miming holding out a doll] "Does someone need to sit in the corner and hold Time Out Timmy for a little while? Hmm?"
Me: BAAAAHAHAHAAAA!!! [slumping over on desk]

I was bound to start crying, so at least I got to do it while laughing instead of being scared and sad. Ultimately, I can take some of his power away by not playing into his power games--no laughing, keep all dialogue and responses professional and business-only, get to meetings really early so he can't bitch about that--and then call his bluff by making sure Alex is aware of CEO Fucktard's belligerent behavior and management-by-threats-and anger. Although calling it 'management' is a strong word. He acts less like a CEO and more like an alcoholic stepfather in a trailer park.

But in other news, I got approval from the radiology department users on the redesign of the department, and CDs will be done in two more weeks. At least the actual users are a joy to work with.

Clean sweep

The construction documents (CDs) for the MHRC Radiology department were due today at 4pm. The consultants emailed their specs before then, but their stamped and signed drawings had yet to make it across town when I left at 5pm. No worries--Alex wouldn't be able to sign our drawings until tomorrow afternoon, so there was no real rush.

I still have some lingering things to do with some issues that came up on the endo procedure suite over there at MHRC, and Jann says she has some specs on yet another project she needs my help with, and I'm glad to do it. But what I really need to do (and what I started doing for an hour this afternoon) is clean my desk. Half of cleaning my desk is archiving all my Wheatlands files. Now that the project is over, I can finally put major files and drawings and product submittals into those banker's boxes and file them away in our basement storage area, away from my cluttered desk. The other half of cleaning is literally cleaning. It's finally looking at every piece of paper and either filing it properly or tossing it. It's looking at every knickknack and deciding what stays and what goes and what goes home instead of staying at the office. It's digging through rolls and rolls and stacks and stacks of drawings under my three-sided desk and figuring out how much of this crap is supposed to be filed. it's sifting through pens, rubber bands, paper clips, business cards, product info from years of vendor presentations to see what's good and what's out of date.

The whole clean-your-damn-desk-Pixie-seriously-what-are-you-waiting-for thing has been creeping slowly into my psyche as I've been coming up on today's deadline. However, it's really been pushed to the front of my consciousness while reading a book I checked out from the library, Julie Morgenstern's Never Check Email in the Morning, which includes a whole chapter about getting organized. As I read it, I realized that my office messiness had caught up with me now that I'm working on several projects at once. While my desk may never be immaculate, what with all the large-format papers on and around it, I've got to get a better handle on the piles of stuff. It's gotten to the point where I put something down and within five seconds cannot find it again. Not cool. That's very unlike me. Hence, the cleaning begins. Even better is that I mentioned my need to clean and archive to Jann, who was all for giving me the room. "Archiving Wheatlands will get rid of a lot of your mess, " she said. "I can totally give you a few days to dig out from under all that--I completely understand."

I need to purge, file, toss, and even wipe things down with Lysol at this point. It's that bad. But in the words of the Little River Band, hang on, help is on the way. Help in the form of a large blue recycling bin. I wonder what color my desktop is beneath all that paper?

Slide show from this weekend's field trip through south-central Colorado

I have good reason for not posting in several days. Friday night, we went bowling with Elliot and a crowd of other kids from Design Associates. Afterwards, we went grocery shopping for our lovely weekend camping trip. Despite my proclivity for the verbose, I'll stick mostly to pictures.

First, we headed down to west of Pueblo to visit Bishop's Castle. Jim Bishop, an ironworker and all-around interesting fellow, has been single-handedly building this castle for 37 years. He literally has had no help building it. He relies on donations or finding building materials to put it together. And damn if it's not spectacular.

A sign at the edge of his property states that, upon setting foot on the site, you absolve him of any liability. In return, you can climb all over this building, going through the upper and lower chambers, around and around the thin steel walkways around the exterior, and even up into the super-high spires and bell towers. Guy and I design hospitals, which require extra reinforcing so that they'll stay standing if there's an earthquake or major windstorm. We realized that we take that stability for granted when we edged around the structure, freaking out a little as we felt the thin steel mesh decking over the rebar give slightly wherever we stepped. Still, the structure held well over hundreds and hundreds of pounds of people walking over them.

Above, spiral steel stair in middle floor. Just below, the dragon head which will blow smoke once a fireplace below it is completed. Below that photo, the two lower towers, taken from the highest tower (probably about 100' in the air). Neither Guy nor I are particularly afraid of heights, but we nearly wet our pants up in that tower. From there, we drove into a small town to get some sweatshirts (despite living here for over seven years, we still managed to leave home without a warm jacket. As we drove along, we encountered an in-the-process-of-being-restored turn of the century estate...

...past a field of buffalo, including this one who didn't feel like flashing us even a smile...

...to a scary 4WD trail over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains into the back side of the Great Sand Dunes National Park, which is a small range of sand dunes up against the Sangre de Cristos, just in time to see a deer taking a dump...

...to our campsite overlooking the dunes. We had a stunning view from a hill to the dunes, the mountains, and the plains below them all.

The next morning, after sleeping in the back of our SUV and dodging heat-seeking chipmunks (long story), Guy made us a lovely breakfast.

We drove home over another scary 4WD trail and even got home in time to feed Maddy and Hazel. Maddy's labwork was all clear from last week, so it looks like she'll be taking kitty Advil for the rest of her limpy-arthritis-left-paw days. I also have to sprinkle Cosequin on her food to help supplement the 0.1 mL squirts of medicine she gets three times a week.

So, you can see that I had a lovely peaceful weekend. Sad to say as we got closer to Denver on Sunday, I got crankier. Guy settled me down and complimented me on my vegetarian enchiladas, so you know he was trying hard to get me in a decent mood. Reason #864 why I love him.

oh hai plz doan take me to th vet todey k thx

Mama cam hoam errlee tody an i wuz happee. she givd me a treet an i eated it,,m, thn she pikd me up an put me in th carryer. do not want! i wen bak to th vett to chek on my limpie leg. limpy limpee limp./ they tuk more blud an peee (do not want!) an mayd me madd. thenn th vett sed hay letzx gib hrr ths powdr on hr fud an more mebbicines thre timz a weeek. iaxd MamA how long i hev to tayk th mebbicn an she sed puheveh.

Did I mention DO NOT WANT!

Now um hoam again an fell bettr. eatsd dinnr an layd in th hall wear itz cool.

Help, I need somebody, help, not just anybody...

Jann tried, I suppose. She did try. I was supposed to have help on wrapping up the construction documents (CDs) for Mile High Research Center's (MHRC) radiology suite this Friday. She got me one of the more talented interior designers upstairs whose projects all got quiet at once. Good deal. This gal helped me out for about a week, on and off, and then got pulled off to do something for one of her crabby interior design bosses. I was supposed to have her this week, as I mentioned, but when I talked to her Friday...

Me: So, Gal, when can you help me next week in between what Prudence has you working on?
Gal: (sighs) I have software training Monday through Wednesday, then I have to help Lucretia do finish boards on Friday, so it looks like I can only help on Thursday.
Me: (eyes bug out) I thought you were unbusy!
Gal: So did I. Except now I have more to do than when my project was going full steam!

I attempted to give Sarge some crap for the software training's timing, but that was not set by him so much as someone else further up the food chain than the two of us. "Believe me," he said, "it's Revit we're learning, and I don't find that particularly fun." So, I just spent an hour redlining a finish plan to give the interiors gal when she's back online this Thursday. The good news, however, is that she found some great finishes and colors to go into the project. I just need to whittle down her samples to a few, mark them up on the finish schedule, and she has license to ill when she gets out of her class.

Also of good news is that it's looking more and more like the dreaded Wednesday MHRC meeting will be cancelled this week. Squidwort is on vacation, and I'm meeting with the head of radiology (Merrill) tomorrow, so what would we talk about? Or more precisely, what would we give CEO Plankton to complain about? Nairn. If I can stay at the office and work, I'd rather do that. Better use of my time anyway.

Eight defining moments, see below

Evidently, because I started this post a few days ago, it posted itself a few posts down the page. So, scroll down a bit and you'll see my eight defining moments. For wahtever they're worth. I'm gonna go have some ice cream.

The perfect end to a crappy week

This week has been hellacious. I spent the first two days running around and getting drawings for two deadlines. Wednesday we were given the riot act by CEO Plankton at MHRC. Thursday I arrived at an OAC meeting for a two-room project I'm working on right on time according to my watch, only to have a roomful of people exclaim, "Is traffic bad? Oh, we thought you'd forgotten about the meeting!" I was so stunned by being late enough to be commented on yet again that I stammered something ridiculous and sat down at the table, just wanting everyone to either get on with the meeting or shoot me. After all this crap, I was really dreading today: another meeting at MHRC with the procedure suite physicians and a few nurses as well as a surgical boom representative, Sandy. Guy and I both have worked with Sandy on several surgery projects, including Wheatlands. Sandy is enthusiastic but sweet, like a red-blond and younger version of Mr. Rogers.

The meeting was scheduled for 11am, so I left the office at 10:30 to make a 15-minute drive there. I pulled up in the parking lot that I've been parking in all month and that Jann has been parking in for four years whiel working on MHRC. I get out and start walking to the building to wait for Jann in the shade. A smallish fellow in a white polo shirt with "Marco - MHRC Security" on the pocket approached me and asked if I was a patient. I said no, I'm an architect and I'm heading to a meeting in the basement conference room. He then informed me that only patients were allowed to park in this lot--vendors and business folks had to park in the lot across the street, the busy five-lane thoroughfare with construction going on, I might add. Jann pulled up and I said to her as she got out, "Hey Jann, he's [pointed to Marco - MHRC Security] telling me that we need to park across the street."
Jann looked a bit confused. "When did this start?" she asked Marco the Super Rent-A-Cop.
"In July," he said. "Only patients are allowed to park here; business and vendors must park in the lot across the street."
He managed to repeat the above sentence in some form or another three more times in less than 90 seconds. Jann and I exchanged a look like "so why hasn't anyone mentioned this to us, now that it's fucking August?" We got in our cars, drove across the street, parked again, and played Frogger back across the busy street to make it to the meeting with only a couple of minutes to spare.

We went into the basement conference room, and a few nurses joined us shortly. Jann went back out to meet Sandy at the front door, knowing he'd never find us in the maze of MHRC. I remained behind until another red-blond haired familiar face showed up. Ah! Sandy! How'd he get in past Jann? We made small talk, and it seemed like the nurses present really seemed to know him quite well. He then turned to me and said, "Hey, do you think the boom guy will bring his own LCD projector, or should I go get one?"
Now I'm confused. "Didn't you...bring...?"
"We have this one on the ceiling," he said, gesturing, "but I was thinking he'd want one to sit on the table that he could reach better and hook his laptop up to."
I looked at him like I'd been sniffing ether.
"The boom guy," he repeated.
"I thought you were the boom guy," I said.
"Oh, I am," he replied. "I know what we'll likely want on them, but I mean the guy who sells the booms."

Does everyone see what's going on here?

A few more who's-on-first-what's-on-second lines back and forth later, I realize that this isn't Sandy. This is one of the physicians who looks a great deal like Sandy. I've worked with Sandy on several projects, but here's the thing about architecture: you can work with people you never lay eyes on. I've only seen Sandy three times in my life, and I'd only seen this doctor three times in my life. And he and Sandy could have easily been cousins, so here I am confusing the two.

"OH!" I exclaimed, the hamster finally beginning to trot at his wheel. "You know, he had a projector last time, but maybe you should get one just in case."
"Not a bad idea," he said. He left the room and I wept inwardly. Strike Two for Princess Dumbass.
The room filled with doctors, nurses, administrators--mercifully, CEO Plankton was nowhere to be seen. The head of radiology, Merrill, came in with a beaming smile, ready to help out with this meeting as well as meet with me afterwards. But no Sandy. It's 11:10. No Sandy. It's 11:15. Jann comes in: do I have Sandy's cell phone number? I give it to her and she leaves the room to call him. A few minutes later, Jann comes in, hand over her forehead. "Sandy's not coming," she says.
"What's wrong? Why not?" the doctors and staff inquires.

Jann sighs. "He had an altercation with your security guy in the parking lot and the guy kicked him off the campus.

The room explodes with noise. "God! Was it Marco? What the...? He can't come back on campus or Marco will call the cops! How do we... Do you have his cell number? Call him back!"

I put my head on the table, embarassed for us and for Sandy. How? Sandy is like Fred fucking Rogers! I overhear Jann explain that evidently he had words with the security guy, had to leave the parking lot. And suddenly...

...I couldn't stop laughing.

I started laughing into my hands and couldn't stop. I'd muffle it down some, but it would bubble up again. I was able to keep it quiet, but I just couldn't stop laughing. My eyes were watering and my lips hurt from pressing them together, trying not to burst out. I let out a small but audible chuckle, then looked around the room to see if anyone noticed. Not so much--everyone was huddled around Jann and her cell phone: "Tell him to drive over and park by the Atkins Building! We'll sneak him in here through the steam tunnel under the street! Who's gonna walk with him? If Marco catches him in here, he'll throw him out again! No he won't! Yes he will! Tell him to park in the contractor's parking lot!"

I suddenly lock eyes with Merrill. His eyes were wet, lips mashed together. Neither of us spoke or flinched, but holy shit I nearly started cracking up again.

We finally smuggled Sandy into the building through the steam/utility tunnel a block away. He came in and helped the packed room full of indecisive medical professionals come to a decision about what they wanted in which rooms. He wowed them with his 3D presentation, thanked them for their time, told them they'd have pricing next week, and then we adjourned to join Merrill in his department. After answering a few questions and setting up a time for Merrill and me to talk next week, Sandy packed up his laptop and apologized profusely to Merrill and us. "That's so not me," he said. "I'm very much the professional. It was just a case of some wires getting crossed and I acted up and I sincerely apologize. It will never happen again."

Merrill chuckled and shook Sandy's hand. "Don't worry about it--Marco brings that out in everyone."

This whole thing has amused me all day, so much that I called Sandy a couple of hours later to thank him for a) cracking me up and b) for doing to MHRC what I've wanted to do after the shit they've put me through in the past few days. Turns out this parking thing was a policy set by--guess who?--CEO Plankton, who decided to finally to enforce it a month after he instituted it. I told Sandy that all he did was say what I've been thinking all week. I could barely talk to him for laughing again. I'm grinning like an idiot right now, actually.

Guess I don't need those fancy bras I bought last week after all. I've been laughing my tits off all day.