Month: October 2015

One of the reasons I initially abandoned architecture and went into Technology Support full time was that it afforded a bit of fun and wild west freedom in the corporate world. (Plus I was totally burnt out on architecture.) Though the pay scale didn't always reflect it, we were often regarded by our coworkers as jean-clad gods. But something happened over the last twenty years, and instead of Corporate America being assimilated by the freedom of the personal computer, it was the other way around.

Technology was taken over by the same tired stuffed suits and number crunchers that have always ruled corporations. And even so we still aren't remunerated commensurate with the fact that the entire global economy now rests upon tech workers. But even worse, we are now expected to conform—and this has never been so clear to me as it has been over the last five years.

Of course I got an inkling of what was coming for years prior to that, but I never thought it would spread so virulently.

After the horrible professional experiences I had in Denver, my main goal upon returning to Phoenix was was to get back into healthcare I.T. support. While it wasn't always smooth sailing when I worked at Abrazo, the camaraderie of my team and the good times we shared far outweighed the bad often enough that I stayed eight years, leaving only when Ben and I moved to Denver. Over the past four years, the various times we'd landed in the Emergency Room for one reason or another made me realize just how much I missed the hospital environment. After two years at DISH, supporting a television provider with delusions of grandeur and personalities acting like they were brain surgeons operating on Heads of State—I wanted to get back to doing what I love in an arena that actually benefited people instead of just allowing the CEO to buy another home in Aspen.

Be careful what you ask for. You may get it.

Well, a few weeks ago that healthcare matador appeared, waving his red cape in front of my eyes, and I took off charging. To be clear, this wasn't a direct hire; it was an open-ended contract, "but people generally go perm after about three months." It sounded too good to be true. My interview went well; I came away thinking that I might've found a place I could land for the next several years.

Little did I know the matador was Bugs Bunny, and he had hidden a huge anvil behind that red cape and this poor bull went crashing headlong into it.

It was immediately obvious that I would not be working in the hospitals at all. I was told to report to the  Network Service and Support Center my first day; the same dank, 60s era building where I interviewed. When I first entered the Desktop Support area that morning, my heart sank. No cubes. Just long, open desks built end-to-end with absolutely no privacy whatsoever.

The physical environment was unpleasant, but the technological environment was a disaster. The company had recently formed from a merger of two disparate entities, and the two separate systems did not speak to each other—at least not easily. Adding insult to injury, there was no company-wide IM system in place. One company had used Lync and the other Microsoft Communicator. And even then—unlike DISH (I can't believe I'm saying something positive about that place)—not every employee had access to it. So every single service call involved emails (because no one ever answered their phones), and many fruitless trips to desks because the user had stepped away.

I told the department manager that I'd be more than happy to be based at one of the hospitals. His response, "I already have someone else in mind for that." So I was stuck at the Service Center. Not what I was expecting from the interview.

Not ideal, but still…the commute was a breeze and the money was good. The biggest problem were the half hour lunches. (This is something that's pretty standard in healthcare, and not an issue if you're at a hospital with its own onsite cafeteria, but this place lacked that amenity.) And even though there were a plethora of places to eat just on the other side of the freeway, there was still no way you could go, eat, and get back in half an hour. "Oh, we usually go get our food, come back, clock out and eat at our desks."

Uh, no. I'm not eating at my desk! So—since I didn't have to physically clock in and out being a contractor—for the last week my lunches have been averaging 45 minutes and I either ignored the 30 minute rule or stayed late to make up the difference. No one's said a word—probably because they're all guilty of cheating the system.

Then, a few days ago—as if to add insult to injury—they took our chairs away. Those desks were sitting at were only to be used as charging stations for our laptops. We were now field techs and expected to be mobile and on our feet for the duration of the day.

Excuse me?

Where do we catch up on those emails, close tickets, and perform the myriad other tasks that my particular profession entails? Apparently standing up somewhere out on the floor.

And then I saw this hanging over the boss man's desk:

I was so aghast I had to take this photo. Yes, it's real. And it explains so much.

How this has allowed to remain is anyone's guess. Obviously H.R. doesn't make it into the inner sanctum very often.

Anyhow, the desk/chair thing slid by until this morning, when the boss man realized that we had moved our chairs back into position and steam started coming out his ears. "We'll have a meeting after lunch to discuss how I expect you to work your tickets."

By this time, I was at my wit's end. Every day had been a struggle to do tasks that have been second nature to me for the last two decades, simply because the systems didn't talk to each other and no one had answers for anything.

Almost nothing had been documented; and the few things I did find documented were so hopelessly out of date as to be useless.

Yeah, I did make a few people happy by solving their problems, but it was only because I said fuck it, and did what I knew would the resolve the issue. "Oh! You need local admin rights on this machine to fix this. Let me take care of that."

Over the course of the last two weeks, because of the stress, I'd returned to my DISH habit of waking up between 3:45 and 4:15 every morning and being completely unable to fall back asleep.

Adding to this mix today, it was announced that all the technicians were to start wearing ties. Yes, we who crawl under your desks and pull cable and deal with your dirt on a daily basis are expected to dress as if we're going to a job interview. And oh yeah, no cargo pants.

Seriously? Cargo pants have been acceptable "business casual" attire for PC techs everywhere I've worked for the last twenty years, with DISH even going so far as to supply them for us. (Branded, of course.)

So after the boss man had his little meltdown over the chairs being moved back and he'd stormed out, I walked over to my immediate supervisor and said, "I don't think I am a good match for this environment." She apologized profusely and told me she understood completely. "Do you need to call your agency?" I told her I did.

So I walked outside and first called Ben, because I wasn't going to do anything without first consulting him.

Then I called the agency. It didn't come as a complete surprise because I'd emailed my recruiter yesterday basically saying the same thing about this place not being a good fit. "That's the beauty of contracting," I said. "You know if it's a good fit or not without a huge commitment."

I went back inside, retrieved my backpack and went to lunch.

When I returned from lunch, the boss man took me aside and told me he understood why I was leaving, but tried to backpedal and tell me that he had made it clear in our interview that this was a field service position.

Uh, no. No you didn't. If I'd known that I'd be expected to be mobile 8 hours a day I would never have agreed to come on board.

"I need guys who can hit the ground running after a week of hands-on training and go."

IN THIS ENVIRONMENT? ONE WEEK OF TRAINING WITH NO DOCUMENTATION?

He then signed my time card, and after retrieving my badge, escorted me out of the building—confirming everything I'd suspected about this place.

What have I learned from this? Well, for starters I am reminded that if someone is willing to pay substantially more than the going rate for my job description, there's a reason, and usually because the place is fucked and can't keep people. Secondly, I have a slew of new questions I'll be asking in all future interviews: hours, length of lunch breaks, acceptable attire, and just how messed up is your infrastructure, anyway?

Another agency is scheduling an interview for me next week at a non-healthcare company.

Today is a "Mark ALL as Read" day in RSS land, because I just can't. I'm done with stupid.

I started a new (contract) job today, and while I know it's probably not fair to make a judgment after only 8 hours, I feel like I've reached the point in my life where I will never be happy in my work life ever again.

You never really know what you're getting into when you take a new job until you actually get into it and overturn that stone to see all the squiggling unpleasantness that had been living underneath hidden from your initial [inter]view.

Don't get me wrong; the people in the department seem nice. They're dealing with a lot of the technical shit that comes from the merger of two separate companies, and my supervisor, while friendly and more than pleasant didn't mince words in describing what they're facing and how a multitude of things are broken and not getting fixed any time soon. I console myself by thinking, "There may be lifelong friendships waiting to happen somewhere out on that floor."

I went into this thinking I was going to be working in a hospital again, so I was not overly concerned when the email arrived Friday telling me to report to the Network Service and Support Center this morning. I started out at Corporate when I worked at Abrazo (albeit at that time Corporate and the I.T. Department were based in one of the hospitals) so this didn't seem out of line. However, it turns out I'm only working there until their ticket count goes down and then I may be one of the traveling technicians who drives to the multitude of clinics around the valley—while the as-yet-to-arrive second tech they hired will probably be assigned to the hospital on this side of town. (A possibility that was never communicated to me during the interview.) None of this is cast in stone however, and frankly I'm hoping that my immediate supervisor (who doesn't even make the decision) was simply talking out her ass.

So when my friends and family have asked how it went today, I tell them it's a job. It's a decent income. It's not DISH. That's really about it.

And oh yeah, only seven more years (more or less) until I can retire. (Unless we happen to win the lottery between now and then. Stranger things have happened!)