Hard work and clean living paying off? Or dumb luck?

Going with dumb luck. A couple days ago, one of the project managers walked into the room and announced that everyone was moving, get ready to go somewhere else. He didn't tell us where, but he told us it was happening now.

Naturally, it wasn't. Almost everyone else in the room gathered up their stuff and then stood around, milling, holding all their crap with no idea where to go. I sat where I was, in the greatest seat in the house, waiting. I was hoping that, having survived one attempt to move me to a shitty seat, I could dodge this attempt, as well.

It didn't work out that way. As it turned out, most of the people in my suite were sent elsewhere and told to "find a seat" in one of the other suites. That, of course, is a recipe for disaster -- the seat you will find will, of course, suck. This is where it helps to have friends in low places.

A long-time acquaintance of mine is a team leader in one of the other suites. She came to me and told me to follow, as she had a seat for me. It turned out to be even better than my old seat. It is in a corner, against the wall, facing out from the wall - no one can sneak up behind me. Even better, because of the layout, I have only one neighbor, to my left. She is damn near deaf-mute, so I am left alone. And, finally, somehow, someone forgot to turn off the internet access from my terminal. Thrown out of the best seat in the house, I managed to land in the only seat on the project that is even better.  Thank you, Jesus.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . .

In the last post, I referenced Jabba the Hutt, in particular as a nickname for a guy on the project. I had not previously referred to this guy because there was a chance other folks on the project read this blog and would know who I am and who I was talking about. Since Jabba was evil, and the guy I'm calling Jabba was actually an OK dude, I didn't want to have to deal with that kind of fallout, so I simply didn't bring it up. I'm gone now, so I can discuss Jabba. Naturally, if I am ever on a project with any of these folks again and somebody puts two and two together and thinks I'm a dick for calling this guy Jabba, I will deny any knowledge of Jabba, this blog and ever having been on that project.

Temp Town has several kinds of people you really just don't want to sit next to or, if you must, that really make you want to put in the headphones and listen to something really fucking loud so you can tune those folks out. Among these undesirables are, of course, the peckerheads, the social misfits and the crazies that pervade Temp Town. No one blames you for wanting to avoid or ignore these folks. Sometimes, though, there are nice folks in Temp Town that you nonetheless really don't want to sit next to. Enter Jabba.

Jabba is, as the nickname implies, immense. He is damn near spherical. However, it is not his appearance that makes him undesirable as a neighbor. Jabba is the only person I've ever met who might just have sleep apnea while he is awake. He doesn't breathe -- he snores, and that's while he is awake. When he falls asleep -- which is often -- it is worse. He has some kind of serious respiratory problem that makes me want to have sympathy for him but mostly just makes me want him to be somewhere else. If he were a dick, I would be OK with wanting him to be somewhere else, but he isn't -- he's a nice guy. He just has physical issues. Naturally, this makes me feel kind of like a dick myself for having negative thoughts about him.

On the other hand, you try sitting next to that shit for 10 or 12 hours a day. Mother fucking Theresa would slip arsenic in his lunch before the first week was out. So I don't feel so bad. And I feel great about being out of there, especially since I have a fabulous fucking seat location on my new project. End of the row, against the wall, the two seats to my right empty. Temp Town heaven. It's not much, but you take what you can.