We're LIVE!
The test that I have been slavishly toiling away at promoting and publicizing and touting and recommending -- because it IS the coolest thing since sliced bread (well, as far as language psychometrics go...) -- is now fully functional. Our first test taker will sit the exam on Friday in New York City.
It has been a long, tough slog. It has been challenging, it has been life-sucking, but it has also been amazing, inspiring and a fair amount of fun.
And when we had our team call this morning and the Ops Lead over in London said, "well, folks, we're live!" I found myself clapping and grinning from ear to ear.
So, to all of my readers who have put up with the tales of CBL and the moaning and wailing and gnashing of teeth, I say thanks. Seriously. Thank You. Because this moment of satisfaction is really -- REALLY -- worthwhile.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Another List
Here's a list of things I've learned this week from GoodBuddy:
If you cut yourself shaving, a band-aid is the best first plan of attack
If your cellphone gets wet, popping it into the microwave for "a second or two" will not help
If you reference Molliere and Office Space together and/or more than once in a single conversation, stop talking.
And the hits just keep on comin.
If you cut yourself shaving, a band-aid is the best first plan of attack
If your cellphone gets wet, popping it into the microwave for "a second or two" will not help
If you reference Molliere and Office Space together and/or more than once in a single conversation, stop talking.
And the hits just keep on comin.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Imagine that
GoodBuddy and I went to see Paranormal Activity over the weekend. Not great. Not bad but I could have predicted the ending about 20 mins in and I think they missed the opportunity for a lot of character and plot development that would have made it much more compelling. But what do I know?
But here's a real horror story for you.
Before we left, GB decided (well, I decided for him) that he would look less grubby if he shaved. And because he's GoodBuddy, he cut himself shaving. And instead of putting a band-aid on, he proceeded to bleed -- all over himself, his clothes, my clothes, my furniture, my floor...
He didn't have any other clothes to change into, so he left the bloody sweatshirt on for the trip. We get to the theater and he goes to throw some stuff into the trunk. (You can't leave anything to chance in Danvers.)
"Ooooh, that woulda been hard to explain if we'd gotten pulled over."
"What's that?"
Trunk of the car held exactly the following:
1 pick axe
1 shovel
You can't make this shit up.
But here's a real horror story for you.
Before we left, GB decided (well, I decided for him) that he would look less grubby if he shaved. And because he's GoodBuddy, he cut himself shaving. And instead of putting a band-aid on, he proceeded to bleed -- all over himself, his clothes, my clothes, my furniture, my floor...
He didn't have any other clothes to change into, so he left the bloody sweatshirt on for the trip. We get to the theater and he goes to throw some stuff into the trunk. (You can't leave anything to chance in Danvers.)
"Ooooh, that woulda been hard to explain if we'd gotten pulled over."
"What's that?"
Trunk of the car held exactly the following:
1 pick axe
1 shovel
You can't make this shit up.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
They're just so ... French...
I have never really had a problem with the French. I took French in high school, although I was never very talented at foreign languages (ironic that). I love Eddie Izzard who is a big fan of "doing it in French." I love baguettes and wine and perfume and Les Miz.
Still ...
Today, it was raining and cold in the Big Apple. After 10 full hours of CBL, I had a long walk down 7th Ave. with heels on, holding an umbrella and dodging tourists. I can't tell you how many puddles soaked me up to the ankles.
I wanted to take refuge. I wanted to grab a hot pretzel, a cold Diet Coke and put my woolies on. I wanted to curl up on an uber soft mattress and rent a couple of chick flicks.
Instead, I walked into the hotel amidst what can only be described as a Flock of Frenchies. A whole crowd of them, completely taking over the lobby. I wove my way through them to the elevator, desperate to get to my room on the 25th floor. Along the way, I lost half the hot pretzel I'd gotten. Salt littered the way like I was Gretel hinting to my trailing Hansel. (mixing cultural metaphors, I realize.) An up arrow lit up, a door opened, and I jumped into the waiting car.
And then...
In piled the French. Men and women, all for some reason stinking like grilled meat. Five, six, eight, ten people crowded in. I squealed quietly and shoved myself further into the corner. Fur coats and leather jackets pressed in against me. Slowly, the car elevated, stopping floor by floor by floor.
People spilled out, but still no one moved to grant me some breathing room in my corner. I still stayed squashed, staring at the back of a coat with the words "Pont Neuf" emblazoned upon them.
Finally, I heard, "Qu'est-qui vingt cinq?'
"Vingt-cinq c'est moi!" I exclaimed.
You shoul have seen how fast they moved out of my way! Maybe they really didn't know I was there. Maybe they just didn't care.
C'est si bon.
Still ...
Today, it was raining and cold in the Big Apple. After 10 full hours of CBL, I had a long walk down 7th Ave. with heels on, holding an umbrella and dodging tourists. I can't tell you how many puddles soaked me up to the ankles.
I wanted to take refuge. I wanted to grab a hot pretzel, a cold Diet Coke and put my woolies on. I wanted to curl up on an uber soft mattress and rent a couple of chick flicks.
Instead, I walked into the hotel amidst what can only be described as a Flock of Frenchies. A whole crowd of them, completely taking over the lobby. I wove my way through them to the elevator, desperate to get to my room on the 25th floor. Along the way, I lost half the hot pretzel I'd gotten. Salt littered the way like I was Gretel hinting to my trailing Hansel. (mixing cultural metaphors, I realize.) An up arrow lit up, a door opened, and I jumped into the waiting car.
And then...
In piled the French. Men and women, all for some reason stinking like grilled meat. Five, six, eight, ten people crowded in. I squealed quietly and shoved myself further into the corner. Fur coats and leather jackets pressed in against me. Slowly, the car elevated, stopping floor by floor by floor.
People spilled out, but still no one moved to grant me some breathing room in my corner. I still stayed squashed, staring at the back of a coat with the words "Pont Neuf" emblazoned upon them.
Finally, I heard, "Qu'est-qui vingt cinq?'
"Vingt-cinq c'est moi!" I exclaimed.
You shoul have seen how fast they moved out of my way! Maybe they really didn't know I was there. Maybe they just didn't care.
C'est si bon.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Following the rules?
Another Amtrak trip - yippee for Guest Rewards Double Miles! At this rate, the trip home for Turkey Day will be free.
Of course, leave it to me to set up shop in the Quiet Car without realizing it. And so, I whip out my phone and proceed to conduct business.
Well, it hadn't been a full minute before some woman marched herself right up to me to inform me, there are NO cellphones to be used. No Cellphones! (You can yell and whisper at the same time, I now know.) Well, I apologized effusively and hung up promptly. I've been quiet the entire remainder of the trip. (Mark the date!)
This, of course, does not seem to disturb the woman behind me who has prattled on incessantly the entire journey about work, life, love, college, drinking, sluts, bimbos, dinner plans,...
No one is yelling at her. Is it because she's not on the phone? Does talking on the phone break the quiet car rules more than having inane conversations with your seatmate? Sheesh!
To be fair, the lovely woman sitting across from me (she likes my Eat More Kale t-shirt!) keeps rolling her eyes at our audible companion as well.
On the way home, I'll make sure I sit in the Loud Car. All this silence i driving me crazy...
Of course, leave it to me to set up shop in the Quiet Car without realizing it. And so, I whip out my phone and proceed to conduct business.
Well, it hadn't been a full minute before some woman marched herself right up to me to inform me, there are NO cellphones to be used. No Cellphones! (You can yell and whisper at the same time, I now know.) Well, I apologized effusively and hung up promptly. I've been quiet the entire remainder of the trip. (Mark the date!)
This, of course, does not seem to disturb the woman behind me who has prattled on incessantly the entire journey about work, life, love, college, drinking, sluts, bimbos, dinner plans,...
No one is yelling at her. Is it because she's not on the phone? Does talking on the phone break the quiet car rules more than having inane conversations with your seatmate? Sheesh!
To be fair, the lovely woman sitting across from me (she likes my Eat More Kale t-shirt!) keeps rolling her eyes at our audible companion as well.
On the way home, I'll make sure I sit in the Loud Car. All this silence i driving me crazy...
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Mixed Signals
It may be possible - I'm just sayin' - that I have projected a lot of the crazy onto CBL. I mean, granted, I get dozens (not a dozen, but dozens) of emails on a regular basis. But then, she does send me an email saying "I haven't forgotten - let's get you promoted." That's pretty cool, no?
Of course, I know part of it is kissing my a** because there's no way she's holding it together without me. But part of it is also probably honest-to-goodness gratitude and do-right-eousness.
It's very complicated, I guess, my relationhip to CBL. I'm trying to figure it all out. I HAVE decided that come Samhain, our new year, our high holiday, I will begin a new me. And that includes a new attitude toward work, CBL, and other assorted stresses.
So, yes, I will continue to give myself some latitude during this, the launch month. And then, world beware! Muhwahaha!!!
Of course, I know part of it is kissing my a** because there's no way she's holding it together without me. But part of it is also probably honest-to-goodness gratitude and do-right-eousness.
It's very complicated, I guess, my relationhip to CBL. I'm trying to figure it all out. I HAVE decided that come Samhain, our new year, our high holiday, I will begin a new me. And that includes a new attitude toward work, CBL, and other assorted stresses.
So, yes, I will continue to give myself some latitude during this, the launch month. And then, world beware! Muhwahaha!!!
Friday, October 09, 2009
A Bit of Perspective
I haven't posted a lot because, to be perfectly honest, I can't stand to look at a computer screen for one superfluous second. Given that launch of my product is -gasp!- 16 days away, I'm working mornings, nights, weekends, you name it. So, yea, extraneous computer usage? Not so much.
But I've been thinking a lot about my approach to all of this work time. I've been dragging myself down because, due to the work hours, I am not going to yoga, going for runs or bikerides, I'm out of touch with friends, I'm not blogging ... you get the idea. This week, I started getting really grumpy about all the stuff that this increase in work has taken from me.
But then ... full stop.
I'm on the ground floor of something amazing. Something really innovative and exciting. And it really does have the stuff to change lives. (Story to come.) So, yea, I'm working long hours. But I've got a pretty cool friggin reason why.
I stress myself out a lot about what people think and how my life stacks up against the Joneses. And sometimes I worry about how my life appears to others. Single woman. Works 70 hour work weeks. How pathetic and sad. But 1) I should NOT care so much about what other people think. And 2) would someone say anything negative about a Doctor volunteering his entire life for six months to do a Doctors Without Borders or similar? Of course not.
Almost a full year ago, I attended a workshop with John Friend. He spoke at length about sacrifices we make in the pursuit of our own "higher paths." There is no goal, he explained, that can be attained without losing something you may desire. You can't have your cake and eat it too. But the sacrifices, while maybe painful in the short term, are more than worth the pursuit of the goal.
I am supporting a product that is important and exciting and can give hundreds - thousands - millions - of people the opportunity to improve their lives. I should be proud of that. I should relish these days. Cuz, yea, they're exhausting. But, damn!, do I have a story to tell when it's all said and done!
Resolved.
But I've been thinking a lot about my approach to all of this work time. I've been dragging myself down because, due to the work hours, I am not going to yoga, going for runs or bikerides, I'm out of touch with friends, I'm not blogging ... you get the idea. This week, I started getting really grumpy about all the stuff that this increase in work has taken from me.
But then ... full stop.
I'm on the ground floor of something amazing. Something really innovative and exciting. And it really does have the stuff to change lives. (Story to come.) So, yea, I'm working long hours. But I've got a pretty cool friggin reason why.
I stress myself out a lot about what people think and how my life stacks up against the Joneses. And sometimes I worry about how my life appears to others. Single woman. Works 70 hour work weeks. How pathetic and sad. But 1) I should NOT care so much about what other people think. And 2) would someone say anything negative about a Doctor volunteering his entire life for six months to do a Doctors Without Borders or similar? Of course not.
Almost a full year ago, I attended a workshop with John Friend. He spoke at length about sacrifices we make in the pursuit of our own "higher paths." There is no goal, he explained, that can be attained without losing something you may desire. You can't have your cake and eat it too. But the sacrifices, while maybe painful in the short term, are more than worth the pursuit of the goal.
I am supporting a product that is important and exciting and can give hundreds - thousands - millions - of people the opportunity to improve their lives. I should be proud of that. I should relish these days. Cuz, yea, they're exhausting. But, damn!, do I have a story to tell when it's all said and done!
Resolved.
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