The stupidity of the 905 area code

Once upon a time, I had a high school physics teacher (let's call him Mr. Fox, because that was his name) that preferred to discuss things related to physics instead of the course curriculum. We all thought this was a waste of time. Then I went to engineering school, relearned everything that I needed to know, and all that I was left with were the excellent conversations that we used to have with our disgruntled and soon-to-be-retired physics teacher. Here are some things that I learned in that class:

• why a golf ball is dimpled (answer: to induce turbulent flow and therefore reduce drag),
• that you can cook a turkey in a microwave (but the skin is gross),
• how a Thermos is such a good insulator,
• lots of stuff about neutrinos that never got covered in engineering, presumably because they don't affect people in the real world, just like books and theatre, which we also didn't learn about,
• why Bell Canada is incompetent.

Allow me to elaborate. A golf ball goes extremely far considering how small and light it is, and aerodynamics thusly factors in to a huge degree. And now allow me to elaborate on why Bell Canada is retarded. Here it is.

Why do I need to dial a (1) before a call half the 905 numbers in the book?

Answer: there is no good answer. Here are some facts. FACT. The phone numbers aren't repeated, regardless of region. FACT. We are not charged long distance when dialing from Brampton to Oakville, even though we need to insert an irritating (1). FACT. There is no easy way to tell when I need a (1) and when I don't. FACT. I absolutely effing hate it when my dialing gets interrupted by that insolent voice that informs me that I need to dial a (1). FACT. (1) means long distance (in North America). Therefore, it should apply when dialing long distance. 

Why the eff to I need to dial a (1) sometimes?

iPhone figured it out already. Even if I call Montreal using a saved number in my phone book, it will automatically add the (1). Rogers will too. In fact, you would have to be addicted to prescription medication if you were a programmer that couldn't figure out this code. And yet, Bell Canada fails us. Why there isn't a community activist group dedicated this cause I'll never know (although if I had just quickly googled that I might have discovered one. But now it's in the past).

More annoyingly, if you are looking for a distraction from work and try to find the answer on the internet, you will discover 8 billion websites that are tagged (905) and offer nothing of value to anybody. My guess is that recruitment consultants, in their ample spare time, maintain the hobby of posting websites dedicated to giving area code information but containing no actual information per se. Just a guess.

Down with Bell.

In other news:

Eric has written a blomment, which is a blog inside of a comment of a blog. I just made that word up (called it!). Read it if you are going to Tobermory and need some insightful advice from a man that just spent a week there with his in-laws.

Recruiters don't give up easily

I was recently inspired by this blog, written by an Australian that is passionate about both graphic design and screwing with people. So when I received another unsolicited, unwanted, vague, time-wasting email from a recruiter via LinkedIn, I took the time to respond to him in a way that would afford me a break from the monotony of engineering.

I would love to discuss further, but the recruiter is urgently awaiting my immediate reply for a job that has been posted for the last four months. Urgently posted.


On 08/24/11 2:19 AM, Marny P. wrote:
--------------------
Hi Michael,

Urgent Requirement

I have been engaged on a search for a Sr. Geotechnical Eng. (CANADA).
Let me know your thoughts. I would be happy to chat and relay more information if it would be helpful

Thanks
Marny


On 08/24/11 4:50 AM, Michael Diez d'Aux wrote:
--------------------
CANADA, eh? I also live in CANADA. What luck! I'm in SCARBOROUGH. How long would the commute be?

What I'm thinking is: hm, I'd like to know more about the search for a Sr. Geotechnical Eng. For example, how many yrs. of exp. will the pos. require? I am not a Sr., but my hip does hurt when it rains sometimes. I also like to jg. though, so it might hurt from that too. I am an Eng. though, which is good. I also speak Eng., and when I play snooker I like to give the ball a little of the ol' Eng.

You may not be aware, but Geotechnical can be shortened to Geotech. I understand that recruit. consult. don't have time for the leisurely activity of composing emails completely based on the rules of Eng., so perhaps you can use that teq. in the future.

Kindest regards,
Michael


On 08/24/11 5:02 AM, Marny P. wrote:
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Hi Michael,

Thanks for your reply.

Here is the high level details for Senior Geotechnical Engineer in Saskatchewan, CANADA

This talented professional must have ...

- Masters degree in Engineering/P.Eng status or eligible for P.Eng. in Western Canada
- 5-15 years experience in geotechnical investigations and in the design of foundations, slope stability solutions, retaining structures, roads, sub-divisions, etc.
- Must be an excellent report writer and have strong, proven written and verbal communication skills
- Experience leading and dealing directly with design teams, clients and approval agencies
- Experience with construction and contract administration
- Experience with AutoCAD, Land Desktop, Civil 3D, MS Office

Let me know your thoughts. I would be happy to chat and relay more information if it would be helpful

Also send me your most recent update resume.

Best regards,

Marny
Senior Research Specialist


On 08/24/11 6:05 AM, Michael Diez d'Aux wrote:
--------------------
Hi Marny,

Thanks for the quick response.

It says here that we've done business together at Enlightenment99 (FKA SHSCPL), but I don't recall that. Will my insensitivity and forgetfulness in matters of business affect my chances of landing this job in Saskatchewan CANADA?

I don't currently have an updated resume, but I can tell you that I am very handy with engineering.

It also says that I should have between 5-15 years of experience. I have 4.5 years. Will that be enough to compete with people of 15 years experience? I like to think that it will.

Kind regards,
Michael

__________________
Hi Michael,

Please send me your best time and number to reach you as this will help me to discuss the role in detail.

Looking for your immediately reply.

Cheers!

- Marny

I forgot the 7am moment!

In fact, we did have an exciting and unexpected 7am port-a-potty moment at the triathlon. Although it wasn't the massive no-wipe poo that I was forecasting in my prologue piece.

No. Instead, what happened was that Rita had to use la toilette. I informed her that, based on my past experience, the potties get massive line-ups half an hour before the race, which is when everyone decides that they need to evacuate before the triathlon makes them do it publicly and unwillingly.

But Rita was all like "no".

But I was all like "yes, do it before you regret it!".

So she went over to the row of port-a-potties, took a deep breath, and stepped in. Her keen sense of pregnant smelling told her that someone had just been in, and that she was in a port-a-potty. So she did what she has consistently done while pregnant in this situation. She went to over to a tree (any tree, in this case the tree in the middle of the field that everyone was getting ready in) and vomited. Heartily. And I don't mind telling you that mango smoothie, regurgitated, is really disgusting.

It nearly made me sick.

Luckily, immediately afterwards she discovered some flushing toilets in the large brick building immediately beside the swim-bike transition area that I had somehow not seen despite their being located right beside my own personal transition area. All's well that ends well. And she still got some great pictures of what appear to be me, wearing a skin-coloured wet suit stuffed with a baby seal, trying to run a triathlon while mugging for the camera. And maybe a few of Craig too, making me look bad with his after-school regimen of Tai Bo. I've got to dig out some Tai Bo VHS...

Triathlon: How it actually went down

Triathlons are a great thing for me. I have a tendency towards training in an erratic, dysfunctional way that allows me to do 20 things at once while simultaneously not achieving very much in any of them! Okay, that's not entirely true. But I'd rather do a bunch of stuff and be good than do one thing all the time and be just good enough to know that I need at least 20 more hours a week to be as good as I'd like to be, for the all effort that I've been expending just doing this one thing.

But I digress.

Triathlon: done. Feelin' fine. I want to do at least one a year, mainly because I'm not in karate anymore and need something besides a $500 ranking to get me into the gym on a regular basis. I think it's attainable. Plus I'd like to see some improvement on what was a good, but not outstanding, outcome. Here's the breakdown.

4:30 - Arise. Play with dogs.

5:00 - Leave house on time. Thank Rita for making me get ready the night before. Say bye to dogs. Muse that my bike tire is not flat, although it was yesterday before I pumped it up. Should be fine.

6:45 - Arrive on time. Feelin' fine. Unload bike, and note that my tire is still solid.

7:00 - Register, warm up. They gave us shots of Red Bull in our registration packs. I note all the empty discarded Red Bull cans on the ground. Nasty.

7:30 - Pedantically set up transition area. Catch people beside me listening to me raving like a lunatic. Decide that my breakfast smoothie and power spheres had just the right amount of sugar. Continue to chat with bicycle, which is still a-okay.

7:55 - Step into the nice warm water. Get splashed right in the crotch by Craig . Craig now has the mental edge on me.

7:59 - Back to the beach for the beach start. Find myself at the front of the Men 25-29 heat. Notice that everyone around me has a crazed look in their eyes and decide that the smart thing to do would be not to jump in at the front of this heat. Scrap that idea. Let's do this.

8:00 - Go! Receiving and throwing punches and kicks while trying to swim. Awesome. I'm winning!

8:01 - Battered and out of breath. Better swimmers passing me. Still have 95% of the swim left. Curse my own foolish desire to "do this".

8:16 - Leave the water. Happy with swim. Suck in abdominal muscles for camera.

8:18 - Transition complete. Get berated by official for not securing helmet before deracking my bike. Curses. Run across asphalt for ~600m in cycling cleats. Get on bicycle.

8:19 - Note that my front tire feels a little mushy. Oh god.

8:25 - Begin to weigh the pros and cons of changing my front tire in the middle of this triathlon. Decide that its not too bad yet, and hopefully this whole ordeal with blow over or smooth itself out.

8:40 - Grinding rim on pavement. Too tired to muster manual dexterity to complete a tire change now. Decide to finish ride on flat tire.

8:55 - Pray that there are no more turns, because my front tire is really not getting much traction any more. Get passed by athlete riding hybrid bike. Get passed by awkward teenager in loose cotton t-shirt and enormous flowery board shorts. Feel like n00b. Damn my wheel.

9:23 - Finish the cycling portion. Unnaturally happy to be starting a 7km run after already 1.5 hours of exercise. Rita takes picture of me finishing the ride. Captures flat tire perfectly.

9:25 - Happiness evaporates. Running effing sucks. Feel like I've just started running for the first time after gaining 100 lbs. Note to myself: Let's do this. But without as much conviction as before.

9:40 - Start to think about the time Allen's fiance finished a 10km race and then nearly died at the finish line after her heart failed. Decide that I will go straight to the hospital after race is over.

9:41 - Second wind. I am unstoppable. I pass everyone.

9:43 - Second wind is over. I am in agony, and covered in Gatorade that I am trying to spit out but is kind of just dribbling down my shirt.

10:04 - See finish line. Feel as happy as the day I got married, but more physically relieved.

10:05 - Finish triathlon. Pleasantly, we stay and eat sausages, instead of going to the hospital. Feel pleased with myself.

Here are my official times, for comparison purposes and assessment of athleticism. I finished 292nd, which is solidly in the middle of the pack. All my times were also solidly in the middle of the pack. That's dandy.

To summarize the experience, I felt good about pulling the ride off with only one inflated tire for 10km, and I was proud that I didn't walk during the run portion. The swim was excellent in spite of my overeager stupidity, and also because of it.

I also need to lose 15 pounds before the next one. That will help a lot. And maybe some hill training on the bike. But really, losing 15 pounds would be phenomenal.

My Athletic Goal: Prelude

With my imminent Triathlon Victory only days away, I am already starting to imagine what it will be like to win the triathlon. It's important that this is the thing that I do (I am trying not to end sentences with a preposition, but I admit, I don't know what a preposition is).

Remember that Canadian hurdler that was top in the world but who tripped coming out of the gate? She was thinking: "This is what it will be like to trip coming off the foot measuring device. I shouldn't have that be the thing that I do." Rita uses a similar method of visualization: "This was what it was like to be morning sick. God I hope that doesn't happen today." And then, boom: barf.

My strategy is positive visualization. I imagine that my triathlon will go as follows:

6:30am - arrive with plenty of time to register. Note that only three people are registered in my heat.

7am - take a massive no wipe poo, in a delicately scented port-a-potty with a flushing toilet and soft jazz.

7:30am - have my transition station set out for seamless costume changes. Did not leave anything in the car. Have not scattered my belongings in a 3m arc to either side of my station, out of sheer excitement.

7:55am - have my wife slap my ass as I dash into a warm calm lake that has an E. Coli count under 6ppm.

8am - begin the swim by punching someone right in the face. Get ahead by kicking people.

8:07am - Think about my finances, that girl in 2001 that almost went on a date with me, or some photography gear that I might like to ask for for Christmas. Do not think "Hey, I've been swimming a long time and don't know the am of which I am where."

8:08am - Note that my shaded goggles are doing a wonderful job of preventing my retinas from being fried out of my face by the rising sun that is skipping radiation across the calm lake and into my face as if it were skipping stones. Also note that I can see the next buoy, which is backlit by that same sun.

8:10am - Emerge from the lake in a time that not even Michael Phelps could set.

8:11am - Dry off, put on socks while standing with wet feet, put on shirt, grease up nipples to prevent the wearing of the dreaded number 11 jersey, don't step on sunglasses, and effortlessly glide across the terrain wearing bike shoes.

8:11am - Jump on bike. Have a light snack. Muse at how nice it was to have an early morning swim in the lake.

8:30am - Discover that I am a much better cyclist than I originally thought. Pass everyone.

8:40am - finish the bike ride averaging 50km/h. Amaze the fans. Sign triathlon contract on the way back to the transition area for the run.

8:41am - get changed again. Note that my nipples are doing well. Start running.

8:56am - discover how wonderful it is to transition off a bike that allows you to go quickly, with wind in the face, relatively easily, to the run, which is the opposite of all that. Note that I must do that more often.

9:10am - Thank myself for not forgetting to apply sunscreen.

9:15am - Have a refreshing drink of Gatorade. Consider my morning at the office the following day.

9:20am - End triathlon in first place. Set off fireworks.

10:00am - Have enormous breakfast, while reassuring friends that they also did a really good job, really. Get showered with praise by Wife, who is now having the best pregnancy ever!

And so that is the go with which it is. I mean, that is the way it goes. Stay tuned for: My Reality Check.

And now I'm stupid busy

It's like it was only yesterday that I was bored at work, getting stuff done in an orderly fashion, and blogging like all the freaking time. But alas, that was not yesterday. That was last week.

Now I'm back to my regular job, which entails working while at the same time being paid. That is certainly tough medicine to swallow, and I will resist it bitterly, but my office has the bad habit of having people "rely" on me and so I need to get my stuff done.

I had to quit my gig as Lead Guitar of a Rock Band too. No proposed time. I have time now, sure, but all of the sudden everything that I do is in preparation for 3 months from now (for some reason). I thought "Hey, I'll have time to jam for a night a week!" but then there were also gigs. And practice. And rock climbing. And gardening. And parenting. And photography.

And hopefully indoor cycling! I'm saving my pocket change so that I can buy an indoor trainer at the CNE Fall Bike Show. Or 'Autumnal' Bike Show, to all my readers that come from places where things do not fall from trees before winter (i.e. no one).

I had such a good time last month blogging like it was 2009. Hoping to keep it going!

Upcoming posts:
- How I sweated through a guitar audition
- My Big Athletic Goal prelude to this weekend of triathloning
- Gardeners Corner: Growing lettuce sucks.

I like gardening

DSC_3045, a photo by Michael Diez d'Aux on Flickr.

The best place to seek God is in a garden. You can dig for him there.
~George Bernard Shaw

So, the other day I found God in my tomatoes. They were delicious, they did not taste like grocery store tomatoes, and they gave me both the satisfaction of not having killed something and the all-powerful feeling of making my own food. Hence, God.

Okay that's stretching a bit. But more and more, I do like gardening. At first I hated it, because I didn't know what to do, and because there was so much mysterious stuff to do. Knowing that you have a lot to do, and that at the same time you aren't familiar with any of it, is daunting. But I was undaunted. I gardened.

Things didn't really start coming together until my mother, sister, and uncle came over to clean up my garden. But that's beside the point.

Things that I hate about gardening including mowing the lawn. My lawn is slanted, it has trees and bushes right in the middle, and it goes all skinny in some areas. If engineers designed lawns, they would all be be perfect circles so that you could mow them in a spiral for maximum efficiency.

Plus, my lawn mower is both electric and slightly confused. If my lawn mower were a person, she would be Sarah Palin. Firstly, she does not turn. Why a lawn mower would be designed not to turn is completely beyond me. Second, she is electric. But not with a battery, the way God the Gardener would have intended. She is powered by a perpetually loose extension cord that threatens my life every time I have to go in reverse and is always in the way. I don't know how it manages to be always in the way. That must disobey the Law of Entropy. Or....obey? (discussion is open).

I like weeding the way that I like popping blackheads. It's very satisfying, and I like to save my withdrawals and admire them in a pile. Except, I have never had 1,000 blackheads with prickly spikes on them that I could only pick in the sun, and which were guaranteed to come back at twice the intensity. So, I hate weeding.

So, in short, I hate gardening. But our tomatoes are lovely.