Some people go to endless trouble preparing for a job interview. I say, get there early, and take a quick look round. It’s what I did this morning. I went inside and quickly looked over the instruments to see how they worked. When I put them away, I thought I could field any questions likely to come up. Now for a cup of tea and a nice chat.
What a total waste of a perfectly good morning! I didn’t even get the job. Next time, I’m not applying as a neuro-surgeon. I think I’m better suited for a managerial position…
* * *
This week’s 100-word-challenge at Julia’s Place: …they worked when I put them away…
Robbie sat down on a log and let out a sigh, Rufus flopped down beside him. The two had scampered up the hill and dashed into the woods, now both needed to catch their breath.
Robbie thought it was unfair. He was sure he tried to be good. OK, so he probably shouldn’t have tried to drape the neighbour’s tabby on his snowman – though it made a great fur scarf. He was sick of being lectured, especially when the lecture involved innocent animals.
If animals are innocent, why aren’t I? Rufus looked up at him, thumping his tail, and woofed.
* * *
Today’s philosophical story challenge: Is man innately good or evil?
And the Sunday Post Challenge: Peaceful.
Art: the reproduction of
what the senses perceive in nature
through the veil of the mist.
– Edgar Allan Poe
When I was young I thought a lot about life, truth, what is right, and what is good. I was confident that, with time, I would know more. Now my eyesight is fading, and it seems that the answers are further away than ever. Indeed, I’m no longer sure these questions have an answer at all.
As if reality is receding into the mists, leaving more and more grey areas. I wonder whether you become less and less sure of your ground, until you are swallowed by the mists of uncertainty?
Is that why they mean by “behind the veil”?
* * *
The 100-wcgu at Julia’s Place: Grey.
The pessimist complains about the wind;
the optimist expects it to change;
the realist adjusts the sails.
– William Arthur Ward
Project winds can be gusty, especially in I.T., but this was really something else. We had been buffeted to and fro all year by changing requirements, priorities, and resources – but this? Major design changes in complex accounting software, just weeks before go-live? At the end of User Acceptance Testing?
It was quite a serious meeting, and I really tried not to laugh, but I simply couldn’t help it. Then, of course, half the team went into hysterics. It was Eric’s fault, really, for keeping a straight face when he asked:
Er, were you planning to do any actual testing before go-live?
* * *
This week’s 100-wcgu: …I really tried not to laugh…
Any resemblance to real projects, live or dead, is purely
is a product
of the unexpected.
– Jose Marti
He loved public demonstrations. This one would be a triumph.
When he came with an order, the technicians always growled. Impossible, they would say. Not enough time, no resources. Grumble, grumble, grumble. But lay on enough pressure and, hey presto, the impossible would happen.
He gave his developers a pointed look and turned the key. Nothing. He tried again. The silence was deafening.
If you want us to build a car, said one technician,
…in two weeks, the second chimed in,
…entirely from recycled cardboard…, the third,
…surely, they went unisono, you don’t expect it to run?
* * *
This week’s 100-word-challenge at Julia’s Place: …the silence was deafening…
Ben had followed his heart. The heart he had lost to Jessica, the dreamer.
He had heard tales of the city since childhood. He had never realised how big the city was, how impersonal. People moved around in rivers, pouring out of metro-stations and down streets. And they lived in big concrete blocks, grey and dreary, like this one.
It had been stupid to come. How could he ever hope to find her? He had trailed around for days now, and hadn’t seen a sign of her.
Suddenly he saw it and smiled. He had found her. He was sure.
* * *
Julia’s 100-word-challenge: the significance of an orange spot.
It simply wasn’t fair! He fumed. The client base was growing. There was really only so much he could do with his small host of imps. Who mostly chased their own tails, anyway.
With the population explosion, he had counted on setting the damned souls to work. Now the Boss had vetoed it. It would be pernicious to their souls. They were the damned, dammit! But, apparently, the fine print foresaw ultimate salvation for all.
He didn’t know how he’d manage without computers. Next: a customizable operating system. He grinned. It would drive people mad! He’d simply be raking the souls in!
* * *
T. Mastgrave’s story challenge: Overworked and rundown.