Halloween is a weird holiday. I am sure that there was a time when it actually met something but now, anyone would be hard pressed to say it is anything more than a day to wear costumes and get candy. I suppose neither of those are bad things in and of themselves, but it is really hard to get excited about a day that is kind of meaningless. Not that it is bad to do something just for fun. I'm all about fun. It just seems kind of odd to have a day set aside to dress up and get candy, and nothing else. Although it is a pretty decent way to generate a theme for a party.
Anyway, I'm a bit of a Halloween grinch this year. No, I'm not running around stealing candy and masks from kids. But I am totally devoid of any Halloween spirit (which, what is the Halloween spirit, anyway?) I've never really gone big when it comes to celebrating and always kind of dreaded it a little. I hate coming up with costume ideas. (One year, I had the idea to be a hula dancer. That was one of my favorite Halloweens, because I was actually excited about my costume). Nowadays, I don't even have to worry about costumes, so at least that was an improvement. I didn't buy candy (which, I live in a secure building, which is kind of off-putting for trick-or-treating), didn't see any trick-or-treaters. No pumpkins. Nothing. It was kind of an ambivalent holiday.
On the bright side, though, it was a great excuse to come home, put in Arsenic and Old Lace, which is a fantastic show, and finish staining my dresser. Which is probably a really lame way to celebrate Halloween, but really, is it any worse than playing dress up?
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
In case of amnesia...
So, for work we had to take one of those personality/strengths assessments as part of a larger strategic planning process (just go with it). I'm always a little bit of a skeptic when it comes to these kinds of assessments, not because they aren't accurate at all. The results actually do give a very general description of my personality. For example, with this assessment, my number one strength was context (and here you will see one of the reasons why I'm a bit skeptical with this particular assessment. Context? What on earth does that even mean? Also, they were making up words. Very jargony. Which makes me suspicious.) Implying that I like to know the whole story. Which is true. Even while taking the test, I was thinking, "Well, in my current situation, I think X, but if the situation changed, I would probably say Y." Or "I don't know! Tell me the situation, and then I can answer the question." Yes, I do like me a bit of context.
That being said, I would hardly use the word "context" to describe myself to someone. I wouldn't even list it as one of my qualities. Yes, I know that I think a certain way, but that is not the only way I think. Which is what bugs me about these types of assessments. I have never EVER met anyone that could be so neatly categorized and labeled. Especially by a series of questions that you have to answer based on a rating scale along the lines of "strongly describes me". I think I chafe at the idea that someone thinks I am so non-unique that I can be stuck in a box like that. Call it my pride, but I really don't think that these assessments can get at the soul of a person. They boil you down to a list of characteristics, tell you what you should and shouldn't do in your career and how to adapt to the world, but always, always describing a mold. People are not molds.
I think I also feel a bit of chagrin that they think they know me better than I know myself. I know what I am capable of, and while their little test tells me that I should look for X opportunities at work, I know what I need. I have spent many many years learning about me, and do not need some assessment or algorithm to tell me who I am. If you want to know what I think I need in a job, ask me. Don't ask some dumb assessment written by a guy trying to sell a product (and this one is a HUGE sell). Especially when of all the strengths in the world, this person boiled them down to 34. Really? There are only 34 strengths? Come on. I'm definitely not sold.
So, seeing as I don't have amnesia, and I know myself fairly well (having spent every waking moment and non-waking moment of my life with myself!) I intend to take all of this with an enormous salt lick.
So there.
That being said, I would hardly use the word "context" to describe myself to someone. I wouldn't even list it as one of my qualities. Yes, I know that I think a certain way, but that is not the only way I think. Which is what bugs me about these types of assessments. I have never EVER met anyone that could be so neatly categorized and labeled. Especially by a series of questions that you have to answer based on a rating scale along the lines of "strongly describes me". I think I chafe at the idea that someone thinks I am so non-unique that I can be stuck in a box like that. Call it my pride, but I really don't think that these assessments can get at the soul of a person. They boil you down to a list of characteristics, tell you what you should and shouldn't do in your career and how to adapt to the world, but always, always describing a mold. People are not molds.
I think I also feel a bit of chagrin that they think they know me better than I know myself. I know what I am capable of, and while their little test tells me that I should look for X opportunities at work, I know what I need. I have spent many many years learning about me, and do not need some assessment or algorithm to tell me who I am. If you want to know what I think I need in a job, ask me. Don't ask some dumb assessment written by a guy trying to sell a product (and this one is a HUGE sell). Especially when of all the strengths in the world, this person boiled them down to 34. Really? There are only 34 strengths? Come on. I'm definitely not sold.
So, seeing as I don't have amnesia, and I know myself fairly well (having spent every waking moment and non-waking moment of my life with myself!) I intend to take all of this with an enormous salt lick.
So there.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
40 great hours a week
I really like my job. I really do. It is a wonderful and terrific thing to know that there are going to be 40 hours every week that are just going to be great.
First, I work with really awesome people. I think it's a black hole for good people, only maybe black hole is the wrong term. It would be a white hole in terms of good and evil, right, because they are so good?
Second, I do really cool work. Most people don't really think so, but they don't have to, because it's my job and I don't want competition. I am an archivist and for people who are clueless what I do, I usually explain it by saying, I go through other people's papers and decide what to keep and what to get rid of, and how to organize them. At that point, most people say, "I should hire you to do that for my stuff." But, see, archivists are trying to preserve historically significant records for as long as possible. What is historically significant/ Well that all depends on context and my job is really a little more complicated than just sorting papers. Go to an archive and use a collection, and then we'll talk. But, this doesn't explain why my work is cool. So, let me tell you why:
1. I get to learn a little bit about everything. I have learned about transplant surgery (more the history, less the technical details, but I can tell you they really struggled with rejection and you have to stay on meds til you die for that. Also, in the days following 9/11, they couldn't fly organs around), bugs (lepidoptera--fun to say, and the scientific family name for butterflies and moths. Bees? They can be oligotropes or polytropes. And some of them are social parasites. Ants? Sometimes they are slave-masters. Literally), sororities, affirmative action, and a billion other random things. I don't have to know about any one thing (other than being an archivist), but I get to learn about pretty much everything. I get paid to learn!
2. I get to look at really old stuff. Letters from the 1800's, novels about business in America in the 1920's, and a bunch of other stuff. Once I even got to see a document with Henry VIII's seal on it.
3. I can't talk about some of the stuff I know. Seriously. It's like working for the CIA, other than the "I'd have to kill you" part. Which is fine, because really, death is pretty extreme. But, if I told you, I would really run the risk of being fired. (Nothing I have said so far could not be found on your own. It is information that is open to the public, should you be so inclined).
4. In a very real way, I control history. I could get rid of documents, and destroy history, or keep documents and maybe preserve very tedious history. I wield power.
5. I get to play with dollies/handtrucks. You know, that the moving guys use? I get this very weird satisfaction from seeing how far back I have to lean to get the handtruck to tip back. It's a balancing act--my weight against all of those boxes.
6. I get paid to surf the web. Mind you, I'm looking for specific information, and I can't just look anywhere, but you know how the web is. You start out, and it is pretty hard not to get sidetracked. Still, I do try to stay on topic.
7. I get a great workout on the job. Moving 40 lb. boxes around all the time gives you some nice biceps.
8. I just love knowing how to find answers. I'm not always the best at it, but I love the hunt. Hidden in the stacks are untold nuggets of information just waiting to be found. SO COOL!!! We are like superheroes. Nerdy ones, maybe, but lots of people appreciate us.
I know my job in many ways is expendable. I mean, if there was an alien invasion tomorrow, I don't know that anyone would care about the archives (although, in the preview for World War Z, I think, they were taking the really important stuff out of the National Archives--you know, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution). But, you know, once we kicked the aliens out (or, gasp, were enslaved by them), we'd really want that history.
I'm just saying.
First, I work with really awesome people. I think it's a black hole for good people, only maybe black hole is the wrong term. It would be a white hole in terms of good and evil, right, because they are so good?
Second, I do really cool work. Most people don't really think so, but they don't have to, because it's my job and I don't want competition. I am an archivist and for people who are clueless what I do, I usually explain it by saying, I go through other people's papers and decide what to keep and what to get rid of, and how to organize them. At that point, most people say, "I should hire you to do that for my stuff." But, see, archivists are trying to preserve historically significant records for as long as possible. What is historically significant/ Well that all depends on context and my job is really a little more complicated than just sorting papers. Go to an archive and use a collection, and then we'll talk. But, this doesn't explain why my work is cool. So, let me tell you why:
1. I get to learn a little bit about everything. I have learned about transplant surgery (more the history, less the technical details, but I can tell you they really struggled with rejection and you have to stay on meds til you die for that. Also, in the days following 9/11, they couldn't fly organs around), bugs (lepidoptera--fun to say, and the scientific family name for butterflies and moths. Bees? They can be oligotropes or polytropes. And some of them are social parasites. Ants? Sometimes they are slave-masters. Literally), sororities, affirmative action, and a billion other random things. I don't have to know about any one thing (other than being an archivist), but I get to learn about pretty much everything. I get paid to learn!
2. I get to look at really old stuff. Letters from the 1800's, novels about business in America in the 1920's, and a bunch of other stuff. Once I even got to see a document with Henry VIII's seal on it.
3. I can't talk about some of the stuff I know. Seriously. It's like working for the CIA, other than the "I'd have to kill you" part. Which is fine, because really, death is pretty extreme. But, if I told you, I would really run the risk of being fired. (Nothing I have said so far could not be found on your own. It is information that is open to the public, should you be so inclined).
4. In a very real way, I control history. I could get rid of documents, and destroy history, or keep documents and maybe preserve very tedious history. I wield power.
5. I get to play with dollies/handtrucks. You know, that the moving guys use? I get this very weird satisfaction from seeing how far back I have to lean to get the handtruck to tip back. It's a balancing act--my weight against all of those boxes.
6. I get paid to surf the web. Mind you, I'm looking for specific information, and I can't just look anywhere, but you know how the web is. You start out, and it is pretty hard not to get sidetracked. Still, I do try to stay on topic.
7. I get a great workout on the job. Moving 40 lb. boxes around all the time gives you some nice biceps.
8. I just love knowing how to find answers. I'm not always the best at it, but I love the hunt. Hidden in the stacks are untold nuggets of information just waiting to be found. SO COOL!!! We are like superheroes. Nerdy ones, maybe, but lots of people appreciate us.
I know my job in many ways is expendable. I mean, if there was an alien invasion tomorrow, I don't know that anyone would care about the archives (although, in the preview for World War Z, I think, they were taking the really important stuff out of the National Archives--you know, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution). But, you know, once we kicked the aliens out (or, gasp, were enslaved by them), we'd really want that history.
I'm just saying.
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