Will’s View

Some people say it’s power that gives people responsibility, others say that responsibility comes with age. Well I don’t think it’s either, I reckon responsibility is a big set of keys.

Let me explain:
At one of my jobs I am a ‘venue technician’ or something of the sort, and in order to go around and do our job we need a big set of keys. The keys get us into a lot of places within the venue, and allow us to open and close the venue for customers. Now there’s no feeling quite as delightful as walking around a crowded hallway or foyer with a huge bunch of jingly keys. Everyone knows you are important (otherwise why would you have so many keys?), and the jingly-ness just re-enforces that they are work keys, because who on earth would wear their house keys around on their jeans?

In addition to this sense of power and coolness, if one walks around with an air of purpose and determination (the secret for bluffing your way through most things) then people will get out of your way, because they can see that you’re a Busy Person. Busy People mustn’t be delayed or impeded because they might be late for their Important Engagement, or you may stop them from doing their Essential Task. And we can all imagine what that might be. It must be important, because why else would that person be wandering around with jingly keys and an air of purpose?

Well, that’s how I feel at work, at least.

--> Some people say it’s power that gives people responsibility, others say that responsibility comes with age. Well I don’t think it’s either, I reckon responsibility is a big set of keys. Let me explain: At one of my jobs I am a ‘venue technician’ or something of the sort, and in order to go around and do our job we need a big set of keys. The keys get us into a lot of places within the venue, (More...)

Over the last week or so I have been studying in the Law Library (as, it seems, have most of the third and fourth-year engineering students). There are a couple of silent levels on which –in true library fashion– you are not allowed to talk, or squeak your chair, or eat crisps. Okay that last one has more to do with the no-food-in-the-library policy, but you see what I’m trying to say.On one of these oh-so-silent floors, there are usually two or three mobile phones that go off every hour. Usually followed by an under-hushed “I’m in the library” or something similar.

These calls are usually over in thirty seconds or so, and everything returns to normal. But not so on this one fateful day.This time the person answered their phone and continued to have a quiet discussion with the caller on the other end. Usually it is the loudness of the person answering the phone that one has to worry about, but this time it was not the case. The person who answered their phone had the volume in their phone up so loud, I could hear what the person was saying, word for word!

That sort of complete disregard for one’s surroundings and the other people with whom you are sharing the space really annoys me. Not only that but the darned conversation went on for about 2 minutes before their friend told them to take it outside.I know, I could have done something about it etc. etc., but I was also somewhat interested in everyone else’s reactions, and was wondering whether anyone else would pipe up and tell them to take it elsewhere. What have mobile phones done to the world!

--> Over the last week or so I have been studying in the Law Library (as, it seems, have most of the third and fourth-year engineering students). There are a couple of silent levels on which –in true library fashion– you are not allowed to talk, or squeak your chair, or eat crisps. Okay that last one has more to do with the no-food-in-the-library policy, but you see what I'm trying to say. On one of these oh-so-silent floors, there are usually two or three mobile phones that go off every hour. (More...)

Something similar to this happened to me recently:

Me: Hey housemate, can I borrow some of your pasta?housemate: Yeah sure.Me: Sweet, cos I did last night and I was worried you’d be pissed off if I used some again tonight.

Read the rest of this entry »

--> Something similar to this happened to me recently:

Me: Hey housemate, can I borrow some of your pasta? housemate: Yeah sure. Me: Sweet, cos I did last night and I was worried you'd be pissed off if I used some again tonight.

(More...)

I went to Sydney recently to go and see what the Golden Land up North had to offer (and for my sister’s birthday). Seeing as it was a particularly early flight I thought I’d take a taxi. Sounds reasonable enough, it is a rare occasion that I taxi anywhere - being a student and all - but public transport just doesn’t run that early!

So I did the right thing, ordered the taxi the night before and proceeded to pack my bags. The next morning rolled around and I rolled out of bed, bleary-eyed and a feeling a little venomous toward the world in general for existing at 5:30am. Standing on the footpath (or the sidewalk/kerb for our North American readership) waiting for the taxi, I saw it sidle past and quite obviously neglect to notice me. After a brief taxi-chase I jumped in the back and told the driver I was going to the airport.

After I said this we sat idling on the corner while he programmed ‘The Airport’ into his Navman GPS navigator mounted conspicuously on the dashboard. Oh dear. What sort of cabbie doesn’t know his way to the airport?! Especially when:

• The airport must be a very common destination for taxis in general, you’d think a taxi driver would get reasonably familiar with the routes to the airport
• I haven’t been in Melbourne for all that long, and even I know the general direction to the airport!
• The taxi was ordered in advance, the blimmin’ cabbie already knew where I was going, so he had time to check a map or program his GPS navigator

What is the world coming to when cabbies don’t know the way to the airport? Imagine a large-scale-blockbuster-record-breaking-box-office-hit-smash movie where the male lead jumps into a cab and suavely says, “To the airport, driver” and the driver spends the next 2 minutes of the movie planning the fastest and shortest routes there on his handy GPS navigator. Or that all too-familiar scene where someone jumps into the back of a taxi and yells: “Follow that car!” and so the taxi-driver goes diligently about programming the perfectly enunciated dulcet tones of the GPS navigator to guide him turn-by-turn through the chase. It’s just plain unheard of.

--> I went to Sydney recently to go and see what the Golden Land up North had to offer (and for my sister’s birthday). Seeing as it was a particularly early flight I thought I’d take a taxi. Sounds reasonable enough, it is a rare occasion that I taxi anywhere - being a student and all - but public transport just doesn’t run that early! So I did the right thing, ordered the taxi the night before and proceeded (More...)

As an engineer, I am cursed. Not necessarily because of the fact that I enjoy maths, or my inability to communicate with people effectively, but because I am doomed to love ‘fiddling’ with gadgets.

During a (particularly boring) lecture today a friend of mine started taking apart a rather cool pen (I must admit that I was partially responsible for this because I had put forward an idea as to how it worked, and that just spurred on his curiosity). After taking it apart and proving that neither of us were exactly right, he started the logical process of putting it back together.

This is where things often start going wrong, as it is often easier to keep taking things apart than it is to remember how they go back together and in what order. And this is where things went wrong this time. I must say, though, that it did make the remainder of the lecture much more interesting, as we watched him strive to put the pen’s workings back together.

As an engineer I think we’re stuck in this vicious cycle for the rest of our lives. I’m not saying that we have low latent inhibition (like that Scofield fellow off Prison Break), but rather we have the compulsion to figure out how and why things work, and whether we can make them work better.

This again struck me reasonably recently when I was at an assembly facility located here in Melbourne. While the plant was shut down for lunch, I had a wander around the plant and I found myself having to consciously cross my arms in order to avoid playing with all the buttons and switches. Normally I’m not so restrained, but I didn’t particularly feel like postpoining an entire day’s productivity because I played with the pretty buttons.

--> As an engineer, I am cursed. Not necessarily because of the fact that I enjoy maths, or my inability to communicate with people effectively, but because I am doomed to love ‘fiddling’ with gadgets. During a (particularly boring) lecture today a friend of mine started taking apart a rather cool pen (I must admit that I was partially responsible for this because I had put forward an idea as to how it worked, and that just spurred on (More...)