Work From Home

In case I haven’t announced it, I started a new job last August.  After five years working out of an office that was ten minutes from home, I took a job working for a company that is a 37 mile commute.  The adjustments required were instantaneous, as well as gradual, if that makes sense.  My personal schedule went from casual to necessarily regimented, including getting up much earlier than I was accustomed to each day.  My previous job required me to be in my seat by 8:30 AM or so.. give or take a few minutes.  If I was late or early didn’t matter.  Suddenly, I needed to be in my seat, prepared to go, at precisely 7:30 AM.  My new job is a product support position, a call center of sorts, which means I need to be available and accountable for all of my time, log off a call log when I use the restroom or take a lunch break.  For five years, my work life was very relaxed.

Part of the adjustment has been financial.  I took a $6000 per year cut in pay, by necessity, because my previous job couldn’t pay me any more.  My last month of employment at that job was at half pay.  When I took the new job, my commute cost me quite a bit more, as I take the tollway to work (almost $6 in tolls per day) and the gas costs tripled.  I pay my ex wife close to $900 a month and couldn’t afford to go to court to have that amount changed, so I am paying the same amount.  My lawyer suggested that I talk to my ex wife to see if she would accept less money (yeah.. right.. no way has she agreed to that).  Three days before I started my new job, my VW bit the dust and I had to buy another car, which added more expense.  Federal taxes last year hit me with a wallup, so I had to put nearly $5000 of the additional tax, plus $3000 of property taxes, on my credit card.  Financially, it sucks to be me.

Financially, I know that seasons come and go.  I am old enough to realize that.  Ain’t no thing, even as I worry through the tough season.

When the company I work for introduced a work from home option at the beginning of this year, I jumped at the opportunity.  For a trial period of three months, I get to work from home one day a week.  The understanding is that I have to prove I am able to do it, am able to handle the responsibility.  Temptation can be to goof off.  Some can’t handle the responsibility, need the office to present the discipline needed to work.  Working from home is not for everyone.

Today was my third day working from home.  I pack up my laptop every Wednesday evening as leave the office for home, set it up in my home office when I get home.  I have an old 48″ TV set up on my desk at home, a comfy old executive office chair.  My view is the berm outside the back of my condo.  The way I am set up, I log in, clock in via a remote badge reader, connect via VPN to all of the online tools I use when at work.  I log on to the phone system, take calls as they come in just like I am at my office.  Someone commented today that there is no way to tell I am working from home.  I like it, since the commute is far shorter.. about ten feet rather than 37 miles.. and far less expensive.  This morning, I logged on at 7 AM, went right to work, the day so busy that I barely left my chair (except for lunch) until my shift was over at 4.

Years ago, I didn’t have the discipline to pull this off.  Judging from my production the last three weeks, it looks like working from home has improved my work output.  Success!

Oh… and I do like the change in wardrobe that working from home allows…..

Terrible T Tries Too Hard

Patience is a virtue that must be acquired by practice.

I thought that one up on my own.  Aren’t I special?  Humility is still a virtue I am saving for.

That statement really is not all that wise.  It’s common sense.  True, although there are enough people who emerge from the womb possessing that very virtue.  All the others have to pay for patience in very painful ways.  Me?  Personally, I am one who has had to learn by a series of hard knocks and mistakes.  In my 58 years on this earth, I have had to work at acquiring what patience I have.  Am I completely there?  Ain’t no way.  Am I the same boy I was even a few years ago?  No.  After a raising a male child, losing a job months before my 25 year work anniversary, separation and divorce, and living above a nitpicking shrew, I have had to practice that very patience I have sought to acquire in order to survive.

The nitpicking shrew tried to strike again recently, in the form of three formal complaints, attempts to have me accused of various degrees of noise violations.  Friday 7, a letter arrived in my mailbox, a notification from property management and the condominium board that a hearing would be held February 12 at 8 PM to consider the complaints filed by my downstairs neighbor.

“..against and relative to you creating excessive noise during the hours of 10:00 PM and 7:00 AM on a somewhat regular basis, which are considered ‘quiet hours’ under the Association’s rules and regulations.  This ‘noise’ has been defined as heavy walking, jumping on the floor, dropping objects on the floor, rolling an object on the floor and leaving the bathtub faucet running for 20 to 30 minutes at a time.”

While I read the notice, my heart sunk into my stomach.  I sat in my little galley kitchen, head in my hands, asking myself how in the world this could be happening.  It didn’t take Solomon to recognize how foolish and silly the woman filing the complaints had been.  How could the board even consider the complaints?  Had they even looked at the history of her complaints?  Why were they giving me only 5 days?  I fought with my fears, told myself that this was a new board, a new property manager, mistakenly taking the woman serious.

I would find out a few days later that was true.  In the meantime, I pulled the current version of the condo association’s rules.  Association rules regarding noise are limited to two short regulations —

1.  Contact the police along with the property manager for excessive or abnormal noise coming from a neighboring unit.
2.   No excessive noise between the hours of 10 PM and 7 AM.

My anxiety eased a bit, my blood pressure stabilizing as my heart climbed out of stomach.  There is no mention of quiet hours in the rules (there can’t be) and nothing I was accused of could be considered abnormal or excessive noise, nor was there proof of such.

There were showers in the middle of the night.  My son took a few showers during his holiday visit.  He is also 6’4″ tall and around 240 pounds.  There was heavy walking.

I was still wound tight.  I wanted it to be over, wanted to do something to make it all stop right away.  There was nothing I could do at the moment, I knew, except put my thoughts together.  The notice said I could respond by email or mail, so I drafted a quick email and sent it over.    In the email, I reminded the board that association rules did not mention quiet hours, and the rules also were supposed to allow the resident accused of a violation ten days to respond.  The email gave the history of my neighbor’s behavior from the day I moved to my condo unit, plus a few of the details of some of our confrontations.  I said that I wanted to appear at the hearing, requested that I be allowed the ten days given in the rules.

It helps that I have a brother who is an attorney.  I talked with him over the weekend.  That was good and bad.  There was assurance that he had my back, including an offer to appear at the hearing with me.  Attorney’s salivate at the opportunity to attack, which was bad.  Attack was not going to be beneficial.  My brother did give me good suggestions, made sure that I asked for copies of the actual complaints — which took some coaxing to get cooperation from the property manager.  He called me on Monday evening and asked me what I was trying to accomplish.  I assured him that I was not putting up a defense, only making sure I had all the necessary documents in case my neighbor showed up with a lawyer or tried to make a case after the hearing.  He told me that the response I submitted was excellent, plenty good enough to show the board that the complaints were unjust.  I had convinced him.

The hearing was productive.  My neighbor didn’t show, which the board president noted.  When asked before the hearing if she had any evidence to present, she simply said that she had pressed charges with the local police, gave a badge number of the officer and the case number.  She couldn’t produce any documents of proof.  The property manager had followed up with the police, found out that my neighbor had not done what she claimed.  It was a lie.  Her failure to show for the hearing gave me a chance to be as candid as I liked, provided the board the opportunity to drop any air of impartiality.  They listened, sympathized, complimented me for not showing anger.  The hearing ended up being a good thing for me.  I was assured that no further and future complaints would be considered.  A letter will be issued within the month notifying us of the board’s decision.

I could have blown up before that meeting.  I could have been a total ass.  Years of deposits in the account of patience and experience paid off, I guess.

Waiting for that letter.  I may do a little dance when I read it.  After all, I earned that dance.

 

 

 

 

Backs and Bikes

A week ago, I woke up to the morning alarm and tried to roll out of bed.  Instead of rolling, I merely rocked a little bit to rest on my side, sharp pain in the middle of my lower back immobilizing me.  What I did in the middle of the night that caused the pain was a mystery to me, I just knew that moving was going to be a challenge.  Rather than give in, I eased my feet over the side of the bed, let them drop to the floor while I turned around and let my knees hit the floor.  From there I was able to push my body into a semi upright position.  No way was I going to let the pain win, so I old manned it across my bedroom to the bathroom.  Nature was calling, after all.  On top of that, I really wanted to go to work… really, I did.

This happens once or twice a year.  My back rebels against me for a few days, then returns to normal.  I live on ibuprofen for a bit, curse the pain, bent over and shuffling.  It’s my body telling me thanks for the abuse over the years.  The lower back issue started when I was in my thirties, when I used to be a softball fanatic, probably a result of throwing the ball or swinging a bat too hard.  At first, my back would hurt for a few hours after a game, then was fine.  Three years ago, I decided it was time to hang up my glove because my back wasn’t recovering in between games.  I played my last tournament barely able to stand up straight.  Bicycling always makes my back feel better, so I decided that it was time to focus my energies on the bicycle a bit more.  Softball was taking away from my time on the bike.

The back pain was stronger this time, lasted longer.  It probably didn’t help things that I helped my friend, Jim, move a bunch of furniture up and down stairs last Friday night.  He’s a good friend.  I couldn’t say no.  So, I borrowed a heating pad, downed Doan’s pills, gave in to a coworker’s offer to try Biofreeze (that stuff is really good).  Last night, Lisa brought over her tens massager for me to use.  That did the trick.  I feel almost normal right now.

OK, my BACK feels almost normal.

The tens is a little device that looks like an iPod, with two electrode pads that stick to the body.  It sends electric shocks that contract and relax the muscle, acting like a very intense massage.  The idea is to set the strength as high as one can stand.  Every once in a while, it gives a mild shock, but it’s worth the little bit of pain that causes.

Monday morning, my boss told me that I could go home if I wanted to.  Instead, I found a way to tolerate the discomfort.  I am glad I pushed through.  It ended up being a good week at work.  Our team started the week with a huge amount of work, worked hard to whittle it down, and now we have a manageable queue.  I am glad I got to be a part of that.

I guess life has taught me a little bit about perseverance.  I hope it has, at least.  Giving up rarely produces anything positive, although I suppose sometimes that needs to happen.  There are times when we need to fight through the pain, see the benefits of seeing something through, realize that pain is usually just a season, temporary.  Divorce felt like giving up, but in reality it was realizing that the pain it produced in my life would give me a strength I would not have gained otherwise.  The pain was necessary, and I had to face it in order for my life to get better.

Cycling has also taught that to me.  On a long ride, there is almost always a point along the ride where it gets so tough it’s tempting to quit, where the fatigue or pain is almost too much.  There has been a ride or two where I gave in, quit, took a ride to the finish instead of finishing on my own.  It’s not something I am proud of.  I remember a ride where I pulled off the side of the road in a cold, freezing rain, exhausted from over 100 miles of the toughest riding I had every experienced.  I sat in the middle of the road, cold and wet, the rain water rushing around me.  There were only a few miles left to the summit, but the road was so steep that I really didn’t think I could make it to the top.  I quit.  Needless to say, I had to come back the next year for that same ride, determined to finish it.  I had thought about it the entire year, the defeat living in my soul.

I finished the ride the next time.