Category Archives: Work

I hate it.

Still My Dreamweaver Gently Weeps

Dead Robot November 20, 2004 Tech, Work

What an eye opening week I’ve had.

I’ve discovered that the Webmaster for the company I work for does not give one frikkin toss about web standards and has been designing one of our division’s web site using Dreamweaver’s Properties Drop Down Menu Window.

(If you’re not HTML-literate, I suggest that you skip this post, it might get a bit too technical. Why not visit one of my outbound links at the side there and come back when this post is done?)

For those of you familiar with Dreamweaver, you know that it magically creates CSS tags on the fly! Fine and dandy if you dont already have an external CSS page linked to the page you’re amending/editing. Which he’s been doing. Our webmaster is behaving exactly like some college dude that comes home and spreads all his stuff all over the frikkin apartment. Let me show you:

<html><head>
<!– #BeginEditable “doctitle” –>
<title>My Slave Driving Job Inc.</title>

Here we see our intrepid Webmaster using a line break tag within HEAD tag. <sarcasm>Sheer brilliance. </sarcasm> I dont know what he thought would happen…widen the title bar on the browser?

// End –>

Look deeply inside this Javascript “hide from old browsers” comment tag, still nested within the HEAD tags. See that poor little orphan closing BOLD tag? Weep with me people. Its all alone! And yes, it did screw up the page royally.

The next is a doozy:

<TD> *Province/State


:



 

Various FORM information…

 
</td>

Gaze upon the horror is that is Dreamweaver mangling code beyond recognition! Look as a Webmaster completely turns his back upon web standards, good code and neatness for the sake of “getting it done”. Weep with me as we think of the poor slob who will be stuck cleaning up after his thoughtless stream of HTML diarrhea.

You are looking at our Webmaster’s attitude in code form right there. This is what I have had to put up with all week. I am on the verge of saying full on to his face: “If you dont like your job then fuck off.”

Thing is, I am unsure if he is doing this because he doesn’t know better or he’s a lazy slob. He’s fresh out of Media school and I think they soaked him for his tuition. What school would allow this past their doors into the working world? DeVry?! Academy of Design? When I showed him this code he snorted and said: “I think there’s a spelling error in there too, Ted.” and turned away. Which makes me believe he’s a slob.

But today. Oh today. I learned today that he allowed one of our divisions’ websites to link to our main corporate site within it’s frameset…

GASP!

Think about it. You’re walking into Sears and within the first set of doors is another set of doors into a Dollar store. Would you not get confused and leave? I am not suprised to see the stats for the site are hovering around 10 to 20 seconds in lenght of stay. Effectively, the site is confusing the hell out of visitors and they are not booking online at all. No wonder. The trust between the company and visitor is ruined within seconds when they see a new website open up under the banner of the site they are currently in. It says to the guest “This site is poorly coded, and we don’t care.” Would you hand over your credit card number to these people?

So I am asked to redesign this site. Looks like I have a bit of work in front of me.

Damn. And I just got Half Life 2

Old Bosses

Dead Robot November 3, 2004 Personal Bits, Work

Scott: bla bla bla blaaah bla bla bla bla

Good lord, he does go on doesnt he? Didnt he say this to me…what…three times since Ive started to work here? Scott has mentioned his management style every time we have these one on one meetings. Yes I get that you are a good manager, if not too informative in some areas. Ive heard this “open door policy” thing of his so many times I should get a $1 for every time he mentions it. Then I could go to Disney. And not have to stay at the cut rate resorts, either. No Parliament House for me, no sir.

Scott: Bla bla bla bla bla bla blaaa bla.

I guess it could be worse. Scott is the kind of boss that tells you exactly what he needs and then walks away. Trusting. Precise. Respectful. And always a smile. Ive had worse. Like managing that kitchen gadget store for those three gay guys. Three guys that at one point or another were dating each other and lived together while they ran that shop. That was like working for Sybil herself. You never knew which one was in a bad mood or which one was going to go off on the other in the middle of the store. When their tantrums started filtering into the store I had this routine down: smile nicely at the customer, roll your eyes in a conspiratory manner, bag their purchase and get them out that door as quickly as possible.

Scott: Bleh bla bla bla blllah…

Or the boss who would drink. That was tough too. One day he’s giving me a full length leather overcoat for recognizing the hard work I’ve done and the next he’s crying on my shoulder and making bizzare hockey-pant-wearing flirtatious moves on me. He was well dressed, though. Even if he did like to get pissed on in those hockey pants.

Scratch scratch

Scott: Bla bla bla bla

I wonder if any of my staff remember me from when I was working in that converted old jail International Hostel in Ottawa. I think of Wendy often lately. I wonder if she married into that military family from Trenton. And John. I wonder if he’s kissed Stevie Ray Vaughn’s boots yet. I think I was a good and fair boss. I certainly knew when to turn a blind eye, especially managing a staff of 5 just-over-twenty-somethings, all of us living together under one roof. Ha. Just remembered gluing all those condoms over Wendy’s door when her boyfriend came to town for a weekend visit. Why is my forehead so itchy? Its not full on winter yet, not dry skin season…maybe it was those weird devil horns I had on for halloween. I should get those pictures up to my blog soon. Did I just miss something? He’s looking at me. What the hell is on my forehead?

Scott: Bla bla bla bla

Scratch! Scratch!
*Plink*

Oh sweet jesus titty fucking christ…look at that size of skin flake that just fell off from between my eyebrows. Right there on my notes. Sweep it off! Sweep it off…slowly.

Scott: Bla bla bla Ted…?

Ted: Yes Scott?

Scott: Moisturize .

Ted: Yes Scott.

Trans Europe Expressed

Dead Robot March 2, 2004 Queer stuff, Work

Stressful times kids. I didnt get the GANZ job, and to justify the loss Ive been telling myself that the 1 3/4 hour commute either way would have killed me. Oh well. Anyone needing a graphic designer should email me via my portfolio site (sing it with me people…shaaaaamless pluuuuuug!)

I find I am returning to GAB, a “comedy” web board that I use to hang at. Its somewhat addictive to hit refresh all the time to see if people think your posts are funny. I use to post over on its sister board House of Bugs but there are a few people there who just get up my wick. Comedy is so subjective, really.

Regarding the ever-increasing name that the gaylesbianbisexualtransgenderedtransexualintersexedqueer community seems to be generating, I asked my brother (who was one of the original Toronto chapter of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgance) his take:

I was looking through Xtra this morning and found a letter to the editor regarding “our community” being refered to as Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgendered, Transsexual, Intersexual, Queer (GLBTTIQ for ease?) and I wondered to myself if back in the 70s when you were with the Sisters and being all activisty (I like my new word), did you think for a moment that the “gay community” would expand to include these groups as well?

What we thought was that it already did include all these variations away from sexual “normality” under one word…”gay.” But that idea came under a lot of criticism, first, and most powerfully, from lesbians, and then there was a proliferation of names that got added as queer theory gained momentum in the 1990s. There was a time when it looked like “queer” would represent all the different sexual variations again, but that time’s past. We’re stuck with a shopping list.

Paul, a buddy of mine from Chicago, in an email, called our community “an island of misfits” to which Id like to amend to it “island of sexual misfits”. Just because the common denominator here is sex. Got some, need some, had some, lost some.

I kin Drawe

Dead Robot February 25, 2004 Personal Bits, Work

Where does my time go?

My freelance jobs remind me of swimming with William Shatner’s wife: one minute Im going along nicely then next Im drowning in little jobs that are either done for free or are speculative towards a bigger project, then the pools drier than my wit. Ah ha. Ha.

Last night I got a second (!) offer to draw/develop a comic book in Marvel style (kids…I cant do Marvel style. If I could, Id be in the animation field) which I will have to decline sadly. “Why not learn how to draw?” I hear you say. I learned a long time ago that I dont have the sharp eye for important things like perspective and structure when drawing the human figure. that and Im too busy. I have a catbox to clean, an apartment to clean, laundry to clean, and a 27″ model of the spaceship from Forbidden Planet to complete (according to my New Years Resolution List). Im honoured that I was asked. Really. But its beyond my scope and I am comfortable with letting it go.

Meanwhile, frigging GANZ hasnt called. Im on pins and needles here kids. On one hand it may mean Im still in the running. On the other it may mean they werent satisfied with my interview and theyre still looking. I think I will fret about this until I get a massive ulcer. That will show ’em!

Cyclic

Dead Robot February 17, 2004 Celebs and Media, Personal Bits, Toronto, Work

Did you see me? Did you see me?! My frist This is Wonderland appearance was last night. Total screen time: 2.5 seconds. Body parts seen: a hand, a head (looking down). I am amazed how much screen time I got for a nine hour shoot. I need a new agent.

Okay kids…life is cyclic. Or circular. Life behaves like an Aikido master flipping insolent students. Or like a hoolahoop with a nail in it. Whiiiiirrrrrl. Poke. Whiiiiiiiirrrrl. Poke. Im on the set of QaF and I strike up a conversation with the extra next to me, who looks thin, haggard and ill. I mention the set we’re on doesnt look anything like the bars on Church, not even Woodys. Somehow we mention the Eagle. My conversationalist friend snorts the kind of nasty snort that makes you want to wipe yourself physically and mentally. Wait…Im getting ahead of myself.

Its winter 1998. Its my first week as doorman at the Eagle and things so far have been quiet until someone comes from the back bar to tell me there are two guys in the back picking fights. I go back and find two guys drunk (and possibly stoned) out of their minds. They’re insulting everyone who will listen. They look me up and down and say something along the lines of “You’re the doorman?” and laugh. Both have pool cues clutched in their intoxicated hands. I take the pacifist route and tell the night manager to go call the cops. They aren’t waving the cues around, mind you but they wont let them go. They refuse to leave and I tell them “You’re leaving either on your own or you will be escorted by cops…your choice”. Drunk twits think the cops getting involved in their little foggy logic trap would be a good idea and wait (“We’re drunk, we want to stay and keep drinking, and we hate you all”). Meanwhile they’re saying things like they will have the bar’s license, have my job, they make more money than god, they know politicians, etc…the basic stupid-assed drunk guy shit.

Suddenly, a guy who was sitting by the pool table watching this whole thing jumps up and grabs the pool cue out of the taller of the Two Twits and shoves him out the emergency exit. Woop! BANG. Twit #1 falls hard on the ice and flips over, successfully breaking his arm. Twit #2 is grabbing at the back of the Samaritan’s jacket the best a drunk twit can. When Twit #1 is out and down, the Samaritan turns on Twit #2 and shoves him out the door too. Twit #2 is about 90lbs wet so his ejection was fast. The whole time this is taking place my jaw is on the floor while I stood there frozen, never having been in a barroom altercation ever. The Samaritan turns to me after pushing Twit #2 onto Twit #1 with a wet thud and says “That’s what you should have done,” and leaves. Me=stunned. Cops come and get an ambulance. They take a statement from me and interview witnesses. Twit #1 sufferers a broken arm and minor scrapes from falling on the ice. Both are taken to the hospital to dry out and get bandaged up. Later on they tried to sue the bar but it was dropped as that no staff was directly involved.

Still with me? Flash forward to last week, the set of QaF…yadda yadda. The slight skinny extra starts badmouthing the Eagle. “Why?” I ask. “Because I broke my ribs there,” he says. You guessed it, he’s Twit #2 and he starts to tell his side of the story, failing to mention that he was intoxicated, high and was belligerent. His story is that they were mercilessly attacked by the pool table when they mental-sparred with a customer. The kicker is that Tiwt #2 didnt recognize me as the bouncer that night, which is no surprise. “We couldnt sue the bar because the one who did the shoving was not an employee of the bar and the guy was never found,” says Twit #2. And never will be, I think to myself. Twit #2 tells me that he and his friend got compensation of sorts, but never elaborated on who this “free money for being an idiot” was from because scene started and we had to shut up. Its sad, really. Why get so tanked that you get yourself into an incident with cops and ambulances just because you hate your life and you need to take it out on others? He went on for a while and I thought of saying something but he looked like he was in a bad way anyway. To quote “Will and Grace”: his life looked like such a terrible disaster, the Red Cross wouldnt serve him coffee.

I remember for days after the Twits Vs. Samaritan incident I dogged myself mentally on how I could have averted the whole thing. I reviewed that night in my head unitl it wore out the chemicals in my brain until it ceased to spark the memory in my neurons correctly. I still have never had to raise my hand to any drunk person in that bar. For the most part, drunks just want to tell you a story and if you spend 5 minutes pretending to listen (try reviewing your bills outstanding in your head) then they become pussycats and leave nicey nice.

I expect the next cyclic thing to happen to me will be I get a fantastic creative job, because its been a while since my last one…right? Right? RIGHT?!?!

I love you George F Walker

Dead Robot February 5, 2004 Celebs and Media, Work

I got to be in the last episode of This is Wonderland today! That is, the last one if The Ceeb doesnt pick up the series for another season. At least, I think they will, its been getting good reviews.

The best part of today was hearing three different comments on how good my brother was. These were unsolicited comments from extras and background people who didnt know I was family. Im rather proud of him and ever so slightly jealous. But then I think “Bet he can’t code a website.” My first appearance is in episode #8, showing the last Monday of this month. I think this was episode #13 we shot today. Not sure how much of me you will be able to see, Im the middle duty counsel right beside the court police rep. Im wearing a new suit, thank you.

Mike tells me one of the writers has stumbled across this site, and if you are reading this, George F Walker, or Dani Romain: make sure my brother Mike gets good lines. Make him sound good, ok? Oh and how about this idea for the second season: James Ryder has his brother come camp out in his office for a few episodes, nearly pushing him back to his nervous breakdown state! Because the brother looks like a biker! With tatts and a handlebar moustache! Hijinks ensue when the biker brother turns out to know more about law than James and wins the respect of the whole office! Hijinks ensue! Wouldnt that be cool?

ROTC is becoming interesting. I was extremely worried that I would not be able to pick up the routine and be the “weak link” of the group but there are people with less skill than myself. Then again, I have a super teacher who showers me in compliments and help. For some reason Ive become Big Ted (well I know the reason but I cant say what it is right now), my first ever group-based nickname. Im all tingly!

This entry might offend some…

Dead Robot January 16, 2004 Toronto, Work

Im at the store (no, not another whiny retail complaint post) and a customer comes in and purchases something. The store has a vast database of repeat clients (Mac users, go figure) and I ask if we already have his information in our computer. He gives me his name (Id say it here but apparently we as a species are not allowed to repeat personal information ever again according to a new law that came into effect Jan 01) and I cant find it. So I ask if its under a business name and he says “Oh right. Try Spearchucker Music“.

Yeah you guessed it. He was Black. Or African Canadian, depending on your level of PCness.

And my face started to dance. Really. Eyebrows knitted and unknitted, corners of my mouth went up then down and up again, squinty eyes, no squinty eyes… Was I to acknowledge the name? Was I to comment? Was I just suppose to feel guilty for the years of oppression? Was I to laugh with him/at him/for him?

It makes me wonder about re-appropriating words, like when homosexuals demystified (or re-mystified) “queer” back during the early start of AIDS. I had a friend who tried to use the word “cunt” as much as possible because he thought “fuck” had become watery and we needed a new hard swear word. Personally I would like to reclaim “jigaboo”. Hate me for saying that but its really a funny word. Strip it of its racist meaning and it stands before you like a elf doing a dance. Like “hobgoblin” or “wumpus”. I dont mean to offend but sometimes words just make me laugh.

This Is Wonderland

Dead Robot January 15, 2004 Celebs and Media, Personal Bits, Queer stuff, Work

Okay heres my take on my brother’s show This Is Wonderland. If I could strain a muscle while wishing it didnt resemble Ally McBeal too much I would have, right up to the point where Alice has to get back into the security line at the court house door. What made me relax was her line “Bite me!” to someone in the line up. From there on I thought making comparisons wouldnt be necessary. It rambled along nicely and I got a good feeling about the show. Thankfully they didnt use an unsteady cam for the courtroom scenes, that would have been waaaay too ’90s cop show.

I got a call to be on the set of QaF again this week. What a surprise! I happened to miss the shuttle bus at 6am (went right back to sleep after shutting off the alarm) and got the second bus which got to set at 10, with 30 or so over-50 gentlemen. They were shooting a dream sequence where everyone in Babylon is old, shirtless and dancing. Because I was with these people when I got off the bus, I decided to stay with these guys for that part of the sequence. No AD came and corrected this mistake, even though clearly everyone was much older than I was. Heh. Subversive, me. So apparently a character dies this season. Wont spoil it right now.

I dont think I will be going back to QaF anymore as that the conditions for background holding are quite deplorable. If theyre going to keep 200+ extras waiting in holding for 5 or more hours they should provide better rooms/chairs for the duration. Im not being a prima donna here, folks. You try sitting on a plastic fold-up for more than an hour and come back to me singing the praises of chairdom. Oh my angry ‘roids. And some heat in the room, other than the hot air coming out of loud mouth schnook next to you blabbering on about how stupid his agent is, would be nice. I am well aware that being an extra means “Hurry up and wait” but was there any reason for us to have a 10am call time and then hit the set at 4pm for an hour, and that was a wrap? Could this not have been scheduled better?

When I got home after that, I found an email from my brother saying they might call me back to be his assistant Crown Attourney on TiW again. Yay TV! Now theres a set!

Retail Salesperson

Dead Robot December 12, 2003 Personal Bits, Work

Apologies for the last entry’s gramatical and spelling errors. F- from the nuns in the peanut gallery.

I am officially a retail salesperson and I promise you that I wont bore the fuck out of you with dull evil events that happen across the counter at my shop, but would like to make an observation: retail sales people officially have a stigma of being second class citizens. When you come to them, you are wary they’re going to sell you stuff you dont need, or you have a complaint and youre buggered if some two bit store monkey is going to stop you from returning the stuff youve opened and put your chocolatey fingers all over. Admittedly the informed shoppers, the ones who really do enjoy spending time getting information about their purchases and the ones who are patient when you dont have the information that theyre looking for are out there, and to them I say dont bother reading on. You can go out for recess early with a cookie. Toodles. For those of you who storm beligerently into the store, make faces when you have to wait longer than 5 mins when you shop during lunch hour, roll your eyes at a small mistakes made by trainees, dont respond when the counter help say “Thank you”, or just basically treat shop people like dirt, you all need to put your heads down on your desks and take a time out. There is usually one per shift…the one that makes your whole day dive into a neurotic tailspin by a sneering look or off handed comment about your abilities. To these people I say, politely and slowly and with as wide a smile as possible: Ass! Try it…I learned it from a Mr Leatherman Toronto Contestant who said it every time his competitor was finished speaking. You can smile pretty wide and still deliver virtol.

My discovery of this retail class system stems from a mother who had an email print out from her son who handed it to me without explanation saying “I need this”. I retrive said product and she prceeds to drill me on why she needs to buy this for her son as I am asking her for warranty information. Every question (approx 15 from “name” to “How did you hear about the store?”) was an affront to her breathing because she kept on “huff!”-ing at each question. She finished the conversation by asking “Why do I have to buy this?”

The smart ass pop up window opens in my mind “Because its Christmas, you nasty cow.” was the nicest I could come up with but I said instead something about using Apple preripherals with Apple computers contributes to their resale as well as keeps the whole “appley look and feel” consistant. She looks at me like I just said “Because its Christmas you fucking dirty stupid awful cow,” and huffs off. I feel for the child of that mom.

Inversely there are people who love the whole sales process. I know if I had finally decided to shuck out $4000 for a low end G5 I would be all happy and stuff. And these people are the best to deal with.

Okay. I promise never ever to bitch about my retail job again. I might relate weird stories but I will make sure its in keeping with this site’s mission statement. Whatever that is.

Wile E Coyote

Dead Robot December 8, 2003 Celebs and Media, Hobbies, Work

Imagine you’re Wile E Coyote. Imagine youve released a boulder that you hope will destroy your arch enemy the Road Runner. Imagine it going all wrong and you are suddenly hunted by the same machinations you created. Why the fuck would you run away from it, following the same path as its course of destruction? I am not going to ramble on about cartoons here, but I do want to talk about a lost gem of a movie called The Car.

So this town is terrorized by a demon car that comes out of nowhere (great long shot at the beginning of The Car coming out of Monument Valley) that seems to kill indiscriminately and with virtol. But the silly villagers dont know enough to dodge to the left or right of the devil machine. Like Wile E. they run along the path of the oncoming juggernaut. I know Im suppose to suspend belief here (a demon CAR!!!!) but a car coming at me while Im on my bike has a good chance of missing me if I brake hard enough at the last moment. Enough about the movie’s bad suspension of disbelief, here’s the good stuff:

A young James Brolin. Like a poor man’s Burt Reynolds, but who has an ounce more ability to act. And oddly enough, slightly sexier. I guess James ego is as huge as Burts and thats attractive. That or he shouts a lot. Who can say. Attraction is a funny thing.

The Car itself. Great POV shots from iside the cab of the demon car. Nice use of red filters to give it a “Hey! Im driving remotely from Hell!” feel. I dont know what actual car The Car is modeled from but they did do a great job with the headlights. They’re like eyes! How creepy!

Best line: “Cat Poo!” Who knew you could twist your mouth that way?

The love intrest dies 2/3rds into the movie. This is rather unconventional for slasher flicks and is weirdly refreshing. However, our hero never really gets all THAT upset.

Its not your typical “Jaws-esque” kinda movie. I recommend for a night in if you’re in the mood for formage.

8pm Update: So I went to Knowcean today and met with Dita. Wiiiieeeerd. She seemed to me to be dressed like an event planner rather than a Software development Administrations type. She’s in a power suit/skirt thing with luxurious nails and smart hair…and she’s reading from a list of prepared interview questions wich made me think “Ok, we are just going through the motions here, shes got somebody else hired already.”

Then she looked through my portfolio to stop dead at the Illustration section. “Can I make a photocopy of these?” she asks. I remind her that they are property of myself and Rogers but, sure, what the hey. She’s eager to see more so I direct her to my website again. And that was it…it ended quite abruptly and she didnt ask if I had any questions. I did get to ask what the major money maker was for Knowcean and she stumbled over some explianation of a stylized Content Management system. Oh. Ok. Thanks! And I leave. As I go out, Carbon Computing called and offered me a job starting tomorrow. Arg! No days grace!? Im happy about it though. I get to keep up with technology and current software versions. Yay!

And just now someone private messaged me that his friend needs web/print work for his new bath house. Rains and pours and stuff. Wee! Free passes!