By now, most of you know I'm detail-oriented (the polite term for 'anal'). Tuesday afternoon, I discovered I will be heading to Dallas next week.
Normally, I spend a lot of time organising flights and hotel and car. I try to get the best prices for everything, and the best schedule for myself. I try to have the client's data and requirements before I leave for the airport. I try to have a step-by-step process for setting up the client.
I also have a detailed packlist, especially when I'm packing for two. I like to go out and look for and perhaps buy a new dress before I travel. I go through everything to ensure I'm not carrying lots of accessories I'm not going to wear. I make sure I have all of the cosmetics and shaving materials and so on.
This trip, I have to compress everything.
I expect to bring Meg, I expect to go out although I have no idea where I'll be going. As of yet, I have no idea where I'll stay (I just found out the client office is in Richardson TX) or what's nearby. And I don't have a lot of time to figure it all out.
At work, I decided to do a dry run of the customer process. This is because I have never done this before. I have a 100 page manual that describes the process. It is sometimes wrong. I have a classroom manual which gives most of the steps. I wrote notes in the borders and can often read my handwriting. Sometimes I can't, and I guess.
I just re-read the next part, and it's kind of over-detailed and geeky and crabby. Feel free to skip to the bold line below.
A process that was supposed to run overnight on Tuesday was not only still running on Wednesday, it decided to fail in a very odd and, if you asked me in advance I would have said 'impossible', way. I had to not use the database I wanted to use and then convince the smaller database (70 million vs 100 million records) to be recognised ~ it wanted to argue. That took hours instead of minutes, and now it is running the overnight process. If it fails, the next smaller database is about 200 records and not a very good test but it will have to do. All of the work I did already is geared towards the first database; it all must be redone.
The basic process takes two days. If all goes well.
I will spend Thursday trying to finish the process on whichever database I use. I will hope I don't rush and miss a step or make a mistake. I will hope it all works when I'm done.
This afternoon, I have a conference call with the customer. I'm going to try to get them to do a couple of steps (like that overnight one) in advance. They told me yesterday what was on their computers right now. It is about as wrong as one can get.
So here's how my week will go:
Wednesday: dry run that didn't go so well.
Thursday: conference call with customer and dry run that hopefully will go better, but it will be a long day.
Friday: work until 4. That's not late, until you consider I get to work around 6. Drive with rush hour traffic to the state TSA conference where I will be judging a competition. It unarguably takes the longest to judge, and as co-ordinator, I will be there well after everyone else leaves. Last year, I finished after midnight and I have to be back there the next morning (with my son) by 8 to do the second part of the judging. I hope to eat somewhere in there.
Saturday: did I mention the TSA event? Because my son is in the competition, we'll stick around until the awards are given out. We'll probably be done by 6.
Sunday: take my son to a field trip (I shan't be staying) at 9am. Pack, get on a plane which I haven't booked yet.
In addition to my regular work week, I have decided to completely clean the computer I'm leaving behind and shift everything to the computer I'm bringing to TX.
Somewhere in there, I have to book that flight, hotel, car.
No time to prep. No pre-shaving or continuing my epilation experiment, no time to get my eyebrows waxed.
I hope I don't forget something vital to Meg's first trip to Dallas. Or to my client.
As I said in the part y'all skipped, it should be a two-day ordeal, but they bought a week of my time. I'm going to try to get a no-penalty ticket so I can change my return if necessary.
If I can finish by Tuesday evening, I'll try to head home Wednesday evening so Meg has some quality time out Wednesday morning. Even if the work drags on for most of the week there is probably nothing I can do after-hours so Meg should have at least one and maybe two nights out.
I'll keep away from McDonalds.
Showing posts with label TSA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TSA. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Here Comes the Weekend!
Friday was uneventful, at least as far as Meg went. I left work early to take my wife (who's doing well) to the doctor. The next visit is with the surgeon on the day I go to Richmond. I'm hoping that goes smoothly so I can get out early and get on the road as soon as possible.
I did a little preliminary shaving last night. What I'm doing is, each time I shave I'm rushing through my face and spending my time on other parts of my body. My legs will be manageable by Sunday night. I plan to do my arms by Tuesday. I've been keeping my hands clean.
I hope to escape from work a bit early on Monday and get my hair cut and neck waxed. I like my hairstylist and I'd like to tell her about Meg, but someone else in the salon knows me somewhat through the boy's school. I do NOT want her to know, because I believe once she knows everyone will know.
Saturday was TSA day. I considered going down with my son and dropping off his project, then returning when they had the awards ceremony later in the day. The conference is less than four miles from my house. Instead, I contacted the woman who runs the state conference and asked if they needed judges. So I'll be there judging instead of heading out. My son will spend the day watching events and maybe figuring out what he'd like to do next year.
Here's what I like about TSA: they have a dress code. That means as a judge I have to dress "business casual" but it means for the kids, that's the minimum allowed. It depends on the competition. So there are lots of women and young ladies dressed nicely, always good for wardrobe ideas and for making my eyes happy.
The plan for Sunday was to drop off son at 8:30, visit three clients, pick up son at 1:30. If the clients were quick enough, I would finish near several shops such as Burlington and Marshalls and I could do some shopping. I did finish early, but it's a dreary rainy day and I didn't feel like shopping. I picked up groceries since I'm still the only driving adult in the family, and picked up my son afterwards.
There was nothing else of interest until Sunday evening when I shave my arms and went over my legs once again. Long hairs are floppy and do not shave off easily. Trimming first helps a lot.
I did a little preliminary shaving last night. What I'm doing is, each time I shave I'm rushing through my face and spending my time on other parts of my body. My legs will be manageable by Sunday night. I plan to do my arms by Tuesday. I've been keeping my hands clean.
I hope to escape from work a bit early on Monday and get my hair cut and neck waxed. I like my hairstylist and I'd like to tell her about Meg, but someone else in the salon knows me somewhat through the boy's school. I do NOT want her to know, because I believe once she knows everyone will know.
Saturday was TSA day. I considered going down with my son and dropping off his project, then returning when they had the awards ceremony later in the day. The conference is less than four miles from my house. Instead, I contacted the woman who runs the state conference and asked if they needed judges. So I'll be there judging instead of heading out. My son will spend the day watching events and maybe figuring out what he'd like to do next year.
Here's what I like about TSA: they have a dress code. That means as a judge I have to dress "business casual" but it means for the kids, that's the minimum allowed. It depends on the competition. So there are lots of women and young ladies dressed nicely, always good for wardrobe ideas and for making my eyes happy.
The plan for Sunday was to drop off son at 8:30, visit three clients, pick up son at 1:30. If the clients were quick enough, I would finish near several shops such as Burlington and Marshalls and I could do some shopping. I did finish early, but it's a dreary rainy day and I didn't feel like shopping. I picked up groceries since I'm still the only driving adult in the family, and picked up my son afterwards.
There was nothing else of interest until Sunday evening when I shave my arms and went over my legs once again. Long hairs are floppy and do not shave off easily. Trimming first helps a lot.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Part Four ~ Meg Does Dulles
Oh, do I wish I had chosen the name Debbie instead of Meg, just for this one post title! I guess I'm not as forward-thinking as I'd like to believe.
There was a bit of a line at the United counter. I could have used their "express" check-in but I never trust things like that. If they can lose luggage that someone is physically handling, I can't imagine where my luggage would end up if it just went into a dark tunnel with the assumption that someone's going to match it with my name. So I waited on line, both ignoring and being ignored by the other line waiters. The man behind the counter didn't ma'am me, and I told him I had one bag. This is one of the counters where you take the bag to the luggage mangling machine yourself. I left my bag there and asked which was the way to the gates. He seemed irritated, which I'll attribute to him doing the same boring job all day long. I can't imagine it had anything to do with his reaction to me. Well, maybe. Nah. Boring job, fight with his wife, something like that.
From there I went on to security, where you have to show your id and ticket forty-nine times. Forty-six people must have been on holiday or called in sick, because I only encountered three of thoseannoying people gentlemen doing their job to make the skies safe.
The first looked down at my license and up at me and said "is this your ID?" I smiled and said "that's me." He looked down, he squinted, he held it up and looked at me. I was wondering if I should say something, and if so, what I should say, when he convinced himself that either the ugly duck on the license had grown into a beautiful swan, or he was looking at the absolute worst driver's license photo in the history of the world.
I noticed that the second guy looked at the ID of a couple of people in front of me, but he gave me a big grin and an expansive gesture as he waved me past. I've thought about that a lot and I have NO idea what it was about. Maybe he only spot checked. NO idea.
Right before x-ray was my final test (nothing to do with how much an African swallow can carry). I handed the Final Man With Latex Gloves my ID and ticket. He looked and asked "wrong person?" and I said "no, that's me" and he handed them back and pointed towards a security line that was actually closed, but re-opening momentarily. I guess I'm passing.
The metal detector was in the middle with x-ray machines on either side. I put my laptop, laptop case, two cel phones, purse, and shoes on the belt to the left. I waited as the man in front walked through the detector, then it was my turn. I thought I knew what was coming.
BEEEEEEEEP
I was right.
"Please remove your watch and bracelet." I did. They went into a little tray that looks like a bedpan on the right-side belt.
I knew that that wasn't it.
BEEEEEEEEP
"Do you have any metal in your clothing?" asked the man waiting on the other side of the detector.
"I have metal stays under my clothes."
"I don't know what that is." He didn't ask, and I didn't explain.
So he had me step into a little plexiglass room right behind him and he called over someone to hand-scan me.
This was a new experience for me, and not just as Meg. I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm sure I was read because I had to talk. But I didn't hear him specify who should come over ~ he just made a generic call for someone (I forget the title he used). This, I thought, could be interesting.
A Hispanic woman, about 35 and 5 feet tall and a bit on the stocky side came over. Let me say that I have a problem with faces. I will introduce myself to people I've met a half-dozen times. I once saw a woman I worked with on a project for a year outside of work. We started talking and she suddenly said "you don't know where you know me from." I guessed. I guessed wrong. The reason I remember this woman is, we grew kinda intimate over the next five or ten minutes. :)
I'd say she was of average looks, but I find average Latinas attractive. I mention this for the end of this little story.
She did collect my shoes and computer and things from the left side, and I pointed to the little bedpan that someone on the other side was holding up as he either looked for an owner or a bidder. I'm not sure he cared which.
She had a script and knew it well. She kept saying the same things as she did similar things, but I knew she was thrown off her guard from the start. My guess is, from a distance she looked and thought "woman. I'm on ." When she came up to me she said that she was going to use a hand scanner to look for metal and would I rather do it here or in private?" I said "here is fine."
That wasn't the answer she was hoping for.
She looked unhappy, swallowed, and paused for a long time. I think her script didn't allow her to say "well, I'm not comfortable doing this here. We're going into a private room." The question was for my comfort, and, really, I was fine.
She explained that she was going to examine my hair (I didn't volunteer to remove it and put it through x-ray. That would have made me uncomfortable). She didn't muss it or push it out of place, fortunately. Every move she made, she explained, even if it was the fourth time she was doing it. At one point I said "yes I know. You HAVE to say that, don't you?" She went on as if I was mute or she was deaf.
She said "I will use the back of my thumbs when I have to touch sensitive areas, such as your breasts". I am certain she is the first person to ever mention my breasts, live and in person.
She asked if I was wearing any metal and I said that the stays in my shaper were probably the problem. She eventually confirmed that, touching the spots where the wand buzzzzzed. I told her there was a row of hook-and-eyes up the front and that was definitely a problem. The wand did confirm that I had metal stays in the cinch anyway. I thought maybe they were plastic.
As I was getting my stuff together a man walked over to me and said "what do I have to do to get her to do that?" I said "Come to the airport dressed like a woman. Wear a corset. This is why I do it."
No I didn't. I just grabbed his shirt and gave him a big kiss right on the lips.
No I didn't do that either. I gave him a big smile ~ he didn't stick around to hear an answer anyway. But I was smiling for myself too. Maybe I wasn't fooling all of the people all of the time, but to the security guys, to the woman who scanned me, to the guy who made the comment, I was Meg.
And to me I was Meg. And I was having the time of my life.
[ a little postscript: everything in this blog is as it happened. I'm not embellishing things, I'm not making things up. I took copious notes in the airport, on the plane, when I got to my room. I do try to make my audience laugh. I know I'm no Dave Barry. But maybe I'm a Gene Weingarten (local reference). ]
There was a bit of a line at the United counter. I could have used their "express" check-in but I never trust things like that. If they can lose luggage that someone is physically handling, I can't imagine where my luggage would end up if it just went into a dark tunnel with the assumption that someone's going to match it with my name. So I waited on line, both ignoring and being ignored by the other line waiters. The man behind the counter didn't ma'am me, and I told him I had one bag. This is one of the counters where you take the bag to the luggage mangling machine yourself. I left my bag there and asked which was the way to the gates. He seemed irritated, which I'll attribute to him doing the same boring job all day long. I can't imagine it had anything to do with his reaction to me. Well, maybe. Nah. Boring job, fight with his wife, something like that.
From there I went on to security, where you have to show your id and ticket forty-nine times. Forty-six people must have been on holiday or called in sick, because I only encountered three of those
The first looked down at my license and up at me and said "is this your ID?" I smiled and said "that's me." He looked down, he squinted, he held it up and looked at me. I was wondering if I should say something, and if so, what I should say, when he convinced himself that either the ugly duck on the license had grown into a beautiful swan, or he was looking at the absolute worst driver's license photo in the history of the world.
I noticed that the second guy looked at the ID of a couple of people in front of me, but he gave me a big grin and an expansive gesture as he waved me past. I've thought about that a lot and I have NO idea what it was about. Maybe he only spot checked. NO idea.
Right before x-ray was my final test (nothing to do with how much an African swallow can carry). I handed the Final Man With Latex Gloves my ID and ticket. He looked and asked "wrong person?" and I said "no, that's me" and he handed them back and pointed towards a security line that was actually closed, but re-opening momentarily. I guess I'm passing.
The metal detector was in the middle with x-ray machines on either side. I put my laptop, laptop case, two cel phones, purse, and shoes on the belt to the left. I waited as the man in front walked through the detector, then it was my turn. I thought I knew what was coming.
BEEEEEEEEP
I was right.
"Please remove your watch and bracelet." I did. They went into a little tray that looks like a bedpan on the right-side belt.
I knew that that wasn't it.
BEEEEEEEEP
"Do you have any metal in your clothing?" asked the man waiting on the other side of the detector.
"I have metal stays under my clothes."
"I don't know what that is." He didn't ask, and I didn't explain.
So he had me step into a little plexiglass room right behind him and he called over someone to hand-scan me.
This was a new experience for me, and not just as Meg. I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm sure I was read because I had to talk. But I didn't hear him specify who should come over ~ he just made a generic call for someone (I forget the title he used). This, I thought, could be interesting.
A Hispanic woman, about 35 and 5 feet tall and a bit on the stocky side came over. Let me say that I have a problem with faces. I will introduce myself to people I've met a half-dozen times. I once saw a woman I worked with on a project for a year outside of work. We started talking and she suddenly said "you don't know where you know me from." I guessed. I guessed wrong. The reason I remember this woman is, we grew kinda intimate over the next five or ten minutes. :)
I'd say she was of average looks, but I find average Latinas attractive. I mention this for the end of this little story.
She did collect my shoes and computer and things from the left side, and I pointed to the little bedpan that someone on the other side was holding up as he either looked for an owner or a bidder. I'm not sure he cared which.
She had a script and knew it well. She kept saying the same things as she did similar things, but I knew she was thrown off her guard from the start. My guess is, from a distance she looked and thought "woman. I'm on ." When she came up to me she said that she was going to use a hand scanner to look for metal and would I rather do it here or in private?" I said "here is fine."
That wasn't the answer she was hoping for.
She looked unhappy, swallowed, and paused for a long time. I think her script didn't allow her to say "well, I'm not comfortable doing this here. We're going into a private room." The question was for my comfort, and, really, I was fine.
She explained that she was going to examine my hair (I didn't volunteer to remove it and put it through x-ray. That would have made me uncomfortable). She didn't muss it or push it out of place, fortunately. Every move she made, she explained, even if it was the fourth time she was doing it. At one point I said "yes I know. You HAVE to say that, don't you?" She went on as if I was mute or she was deaf.
She said "I will use the back of my thumbs when I have to touch sensitive areas, such as your breasts". I am certain she is the first person to ever mention my breasts, live and in person.
She asked if I was wearing any metal and I said that the stays in my shaper were probably the problem. She eventually confirmed that, touching the spots where the wand buzzzzzed. I told her there was a row of hook-and-eyes up the front and that was definitely a problem. The wand did confirm that I had metal stays in the cinch anyway. I thought maybe they were plastic.
As I was getting my stuff together a man walked over to me and said "what do I have to do to get her to do that?" I said "Come to the airport dressed like a woman. Wear a corset. This is why I do it."
No I didn't. I just grabbed his shirt and gave him a big kiss right on the lips.
No I didn't do that either. I gave him a big smile ~ he didn't stick around to hear an answer anyway. But I was smiling for myself too. Maybe I wasn't fooling all of the people all of the time, but to the security guys, to the woman who scanned me, to the guy who made the comment, I was Meg.
And to me I was Meg. And I was having the time of my life.
[ a little postscript: everything in this blog is as it happened. I'm not embellishing things, I'm not making things up. I took copious notes in the airport, on the plane, when I got to my room. I do try to make my audience laugh. I know I'm no Dave Barry. But maybe I'm a Gene Weingarten (local reference). ]
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