The Last Coffee Bean

Originally published on my other blog.

Like the straw that broke the camel's back, this is a story about how a little thing can really be the big thing that initiates action.

In my case, that little thing was coffee - and even more precisely, coffee beans.

The office has bad coffee. They've been using a single serve system that was phased out by the manufacturer years ago. This is a coffee system that *I* used in grad school, making it well over a decade old. On days when I've been feeling like the ancient one in the office, I just remind myself that the coffee machine might be older. The original manufacturer no longer makes or sells their own machines or coffee pads. The only way to obtain their single serve coffee packets is to find a third party vendor. And guess what? The third party vendor coffee is cheap and tastes terrible. I rather suspect that the third party vendor is just trying to empty out their 5-year-old stash.

The people in the office don't like the coffee. Even the person (currently) responsible for the office coffee brings in his own 20 oz coffee thermos from home. If desperate for something hot and caffeinated, someone MAY venture to drink a cup of the bad coffee. But mostly, the coffee sits unused.

The boss, perhaps, sees himself as saving money twice over, because he can both 1) buy cheap coffee and 2) nobody drinks it.

I decided that we needed better coffee. I talked to my coworkers to see what they thought. I solicited opinions about what might work better. I started to think about how better coffee everyday could be a morale boost. Not just the coffee drinking - but the smell of the coffee, the warmth of holding a cup in your hands - and the idea that everyday someone cared enough to make coffee. I suggested that we could rotate coffee vendors and run informal taste tests from week to week.

It took me a while to work up the courage to ask the boss. I suggested that I would take total responsibility. He seemed okay with the idea, and I breathed a great sigh of relief, because he has not yet been okay with any of my professional-related ideas. I figured this time, I aimed low enough. It had nothing to do with architecture, so he was going to let me do it! It was a small victory, but that was okay.  I happily started planning my new (and only!) office responsibility.

The next day, the boss was grouchy. I noticed it as soon as he came in to the office. In the early afternoon he told me that I shouldn't do the coffee plan. Until the old coffee was all used up.
Friends, there is A LOT of old coffee to be used up.

"Hmmmm..." I said. " Maybe we can donate the old coffee and coffee maker to a homeless shelter?"

"Why?" he asked me, "Did you already buy the coffee?"

"No..."

"Well, it's a lot of work to donate the old coffee. The machine would have to be really thoroughly cleaned. Like with vinegar and water and everything."

Um. I have three kids. Cleaning a coffee pot with vinegar and water is NOT a big deal. But I didn't argue, because something told me that the work of cleaning the pot wasn't the point. I DID wonder why the hell my boss was being such an obstructionist.

One of my co-workers decided to start taking the coffee home to be "used up" quicker. I thought of doing this, too. But:

AM I FORTY-ONE YEARS OLD OR WHAT? I AM NOT GOING TO SNEAK HOME COFFEE PADS TO THROW THEM AWAY IN THE TRASH *JUST* TO BE ABLE TO DO SOMETHING NICE (IE, MAKE COFFEE) FOR MY COLLEAGUES!

I mean, WTF?!?

It's all about control with this boss. It is ALL about control: the professional slights which land on all sort of people, the grouchy attitude, the flow of coffee. But it just so happens that controlling the bad coffee is the item to really break my patience. I could do mental gymnastics around the other things: maybe I didn't really understand the professional situation, maybe I said something at the wrong time or in the wrong way. Maybe my design skills are not as great as his. But when a simple act, like making coffee for my fellow co-workers, became an act to be controlled, I knew I needed to start sending out resumes.

Endorsed By...

Originally published on my other blog.

Me. Or not.

Right now, as my office is busily looking for its next hire, the woman-denigrator-in-chief has decided to hire another female.

At first, I was annoyed that women WEREN'T being hired. But now that the upper levels of the office have been stacked with men, it appears that some young, fresh out of school female intern will be added (at the bottom). The woman-denigrator-in-chief talks about all the women from the far flung corners of the United States who are just dying to come to our office. To myself, I snort, thinking that this is only because they're not here on the local scene to know catch a whiff of the truth.

What is bothering me intensely is that my name and my accolades sit there on the office website, like some sort of endorsement of the office. I remember when I was a young intern, I looked for offices with strong females. I looked for a certain level of education and age of the female employees. In short, I looked for older, accomplished women who could be my mentor. My current bio is notdifferent from what I looked for when I was fresh out of school. I figured if I admired the resume of the women at the office, it couldn't be a bad place for other women, right?

In this case, that answer would be WRONG.

It's really, really bothering me. I've faced relentless discrimination and belittling in this office...that wouldn't hold up in any sort of lawsuit. Another female – no longer with the firm – left suddenly and collected a "severance package" after only one year at the firm. That's the type thing I worry about more. Why does one collect a severance package, especially if one leaves suddenly after a year?

The men in my life remind me that the severance package story is not my story to tell. But I'll tell you what: as soon as I get out of this office, I will be leaving a very pointed review on Glassdoor, detailing my own experience. And if I could leave something on the "Shitty Architecture Men" list – or find its mirror – I'd do that, too.

It's just wrong, wrong, wrong.

Playlists

Originally publicized on my other blog.

Lately, I have been making playlists of music. I'm trying to make playlists that tell stories.

There's an interview by Terry Gross with Lin-Manual Miranda. In the interview, Miranda talks about making mix tapes in his youth. Being about the same age as he is, I suppose, I also have fond memories of the mix tapes that were made for me. But I never made mix tapes myself. I always wondered just how much I should read into mix tapes that were given to me. One boyfriend made me a mix tape with They Might Be Giant's Lucky Ball and Chain, and I was like, WHAT? Are you telling me something? (We didn't last much longer; and I am SO NOT a ball and chain. Please! I'm, like, SUPER low maintenance.)

The other thing that inspired this new activity is that I've noticed how directly impacted I am by what I am hearing. Ever since our middle child was born, I've realized how my concentration or mood can be influenced by the noise surrounding me. Since I started working, and listening at work, I've noticed how some music makes me focus better - and some music makes me angry - and some podcasts are just way too distracting to listen to.

Anyway. Playlists are fun! Fussing around them in digital form is really a user-friendly experience.

How have I missed out on this technology for the last two decades? I'm also really surprised how hard it is to make a great playlist, even WITH digital technology. I've started testing my playlists out on other people...just, you know, casually feeding them via bluetooth into the car radio when I have a captive audience. It's fun to see how people react...do they sing along subconsciously? Do they ardently ignore what's playing? Does the playlist seem to impact our conversations?