Les Bonnes Choses

A column in the Globe and Mail caught my eye for absurdity today, for it was entitled, "How can I work 'smarter' rather than 'harder'?". It reminded me of the old stand-by, "If you have to ask, you can't afford it."

It seems to me, if you have to ask how to work smarter, you might want to consider a different line of work, because the one you're in probably isn't going to end well for you.

I just stumbled across this article on Wired, based on a recent article in Nature, the journal to which Gill and I aspire to be published in the near future. In it, the article briefly discusses the overuse of antibiotics, which is widely believed to be responsible for the proliferation of drug-resistance among various nasties.

I've alluded in the past to random ideas I've had that, despite their naivete, turned out to be pretty good -- good enough that others who have also had them have gone on to make something out of them. For example, after I learned how viruses work, I thought, "hey, that would be a good way to screw around with cancer cells" (1998).

Okay, so, aside from religious fundamentalists, we're all pretty much up-to-speed on the concept of survival of the fittest, right? That's how those nasty buggers came about in the first place. We keep making conditions that promote the survival of only those organisms that survive antibiotics. So what if, instead of disinfecting our hospitals, we infected the hell out of them? Like, with the old-school lame versions of those superbugs? Bugs that compete for the same resources. It would be like flooding the market with cheap knockoffs. In my head, at least, it seems just so crazy, it just might work.

Today was the kind of day where, unfortunately, a blog topic happened to me. I use the term, unfortunate, because you will usually find me writing about the asinine and the ridiculous.

Back in the spring, a switch in my kitchen suffered a mechanical failure. This switch independently controlled the lights and rotation of the ceiling fan; the button that operated the lights would no longer depress, leaving the lights permanently off. There are other light sources in the kitchen, so it wasn't a big deal, but I meant to try to fix the problem myself because I'm a DIY kind of guy.

Eventually, I got around to buying a replacement switch from the hardware store. The switch it replaced had several connection points along each side -- many more than the three on the replacement switch. I have no idea how the original circuit worked (though I took photographs of the broken switch in situ for reference) but it seemed that no configuration with the replacement switch would restore the original functionality. The best I could achieve was a switch that shut the power off to a wall in the adjacent room, but still did not toggle the ceiling fan light. The fan itself still worked.

Having made things slightly worse (now my entertainment unit could be shut off accidentally with the flick of a switch), I decided to get the landlord to call in a professional. Or, rather, "professional".

The first time the guy came out, I could not be there, so I left the note below, detailing the general state of things. Read it, and try to think like an electrician for a moment. Or, if you find yourself unable to role-play an electrician, maybe you'll have better luck thinking like a detective:



Now, from what I have written, do you suppose the affected switch might have something to do with the outlets in the next room? Might you want to verify that fixing the fan light did not disable power to the living room?

If you said 'yes' to these questions, congratulations! You have the natural makings of an electrician.

Sadly, the electrician who rewired the light switch does not.

While I made things slightly worse by putting the adjacent room on a switch (which could at least be left on), the electrician managed to make things much worse by cutting the power to the room entirely. On top of that, only the single most out-of-the way kitchen outlet is electrified, so without the aid of an extension cord, neither tea nor toast are possible.

The second visit from this electrician happened today, called in to restore power to the dead outlets. Again, I was out, but I left a comprehensive map of what outlets were not functioning and which ones were. I had hoped this would suffice. My hopes were dashed. Though the living room again has power flowing to it, the kitchen outlets, marked non-functional on my map, are still dead.

I have texted Matt, the property manager who not only feels terribly about this, but also has to drag himself out here each time to let the electrician in. I will perhaps update my entry when the story reaches it's thrilling conclusion. But first, I will make some tea, because I'm experiencing caffeine de-teas (DTs).

I received a call from a telephone solicitor the other night. Ostensibly a wrong number, it went something like this:

Telemarketer: Hi, Mr. mumble-mumble?
Me: I beg your pardon?
TM: Mr. mumble something not my name
Me: I'm sorry, you have the wrong number.
TM: Well, can I just ask you, have you thought about upgrading your education?
Me: No, not really. I'm about as educated as you can get.
TM: Well, we offer a number of programs that can enhance your current ...
Me: No, I really don't think you can offer me any more education. I have a Ph D. They don't make anything that goes higher than that.
TM: (incredulously) You have a Ph D.
Me: Yes. Goodbye.

I'm almost certain he didn't believe me, but man, that felt really good.

I've heard about Steve Williams twice (1, 2)in the sporting news now -- two more times than I believe are merited. I'm sure I'm betraying my golfing ignorance when I suggest that the guy who lugs around a bag of clubs is to the successful career of a pro golfer as the guy who pumps gas is to the successful career of a NASCAR driver. Or perhaps even less-so, because maybe the guy who pumps gas has to be especially quick and precise about it. The caddy just has to not pass out in the sun.

I did really well on the analogical reasoning section on my GRE, so I think you should trust me on this one.

Okay, I'll admit that none of the folklore supports this statement. The other problem with my hypothesis is that vampires -- at least of the undead variety -- don't exist (but I welcome a flamewar with any weirdo who wishes to dispute this). Nonetheless, I feel strongly that any arbitrary statement should be supported by at least one hit on google, which, until now, has not been the case for my thesis statement.

And this report, from the department of I Can't Fathom It Done Any Other Way is courtesy of the auditing company responsible for verifying the status of dependents claimed by Northwestern employees in their benefits packages. I understand the motivation behind the audit, but you'd think the company hired to carry out the audit might have a better handle on the manner in which may appear the various forms the documentation for which they asked. Verification of my children, for example, required the submission of long-form copies of their birth certificates. Period. Fine and well if your jurisdiction has long-form birth certificates. The one in which mine were born does not. And so they could not be verified -- at least, not without a phone call to the company during which I had to remind myself that the person with whom I was speaking was not the short-sighted idiot to whom my irritation should be directed. Assuming that Northwestern - an organization with enough foreign employees to warrant an International Office - paid for the service, you'd think the company they hired would have the wherewithal to apprehend that children are very often born outside the United States.