Ode to The Tough Guy

Picture Saturday night:
I'm at a show, watching a brutal band, Blackout 77 (click for the picture) sacrilegiously intimidate the Sex Pistols. The lead singer's British accent was utterly laughable. It sounded more like he was talking with a sock in his mouth. Worse yet, he kept looking to the swastika clad lead Guitarist shouting "Sid!"... "eh Sid?!".. "Bring it home Siddy!" followed by some incoherent blabber ... and then "Sid!"

I was enraged. People we actually enjoying this.
Where was I you ask?

I was backstage (er side stage). I was in the elevated, Privileged bands only section, safely separated from the hordes of tasteless, moshing boobs as they honored their sexless wannabes.

Standing there, seething from my overdose of Vitamin O I continued to bare it, only if for the comedy of the situation.

Hulk Hogan, Enter Stage Left:
Doing nothing, saying nothing, standing there, suddenly an arm clamps down on my shoulder. "BANDS ONLY"

I turn to my left. "What the fuck?" I exclaim, Full of piss and vinegar, turning to face some make-up boasting muscle bound moron in the oh-so-elite "Dome Security" T-shirt.

"You gotta be with the band to be back here buddy!" As I was 4 feet from the moshing crowd.

I stood there for a second, going back through my brain's blackbox. I'd been standing here for 20 minutes, this guy had been standing next to me the whole time. Why had his balls suddenly dropped? Hadn't he already filled his assault quota for the night? The guy at the door certainly had, he'd cupped my balls/Frisked me down to make sure I wasn't a gun-totting Gee.

"Get your F*cking hands off me" I said to him, not believing what I had said as I said it.

"You gotta be with the band!" He said, now shoving me.
Summoning all my God-given Oland's provided strength I grabbed his hand and flung it off me. "Fuck off tough guy. Get your hands off me. You can fucking ask me and I'll leave...."

It worked. He stepped back.
I thought to up the ante, but then wishing not to make a scene or end up in hospital, I left my front row seat to abomination and retreated into the crowd.

I was content to retreat. Happy and smiling, that for an instant, I'd left nerdom and graduated to being a tough guy. My diploma, the look on that idot's clown painted face when I fought back.

Of course, to put this in perspective.
I spent the early hours of Sunday watching bootlegged Mythbuster's Episodes over a McDonald's McDeal and Stella and then spent the somewhat later-early hours of Sunday Giving my earlier consumed but as of yet undigested Vitamin O back to the environment.

But I'm still content. :)

It's coming down to the wire and I'm thinking about the great injustice that has been done to me. It's a much more invasive thought than say, angular velocity fields or the countless applications of gradient, divergence, curl and their combinations of each other.

I've already taken Vector Calculus and excelled at it, so says the 87%. I'm a certified, bona fide Mathematician, yet here I am, studying the same garble again. Even if by garble I mean my 10 pages of scratched notes, and by studying, I mean skimming my scratches during the commercial breaks of the latest episode of "Greatest Ever".

Why? Why am I going through this I Ask?
Because My previous course in Vector Calculus didn't swing through the last chapter covered by this course. Total duration of work missed: 3 days. Specifically, the last 3 days of the term. Total course work: 22 pages of a 620 page text.

Now isn't that something? I wonder who did that math on this one and Came up with the bold answer to deny me a transfer credit for this course.

Well at least I'll have an even greater mastery of the field after I get this 1000$ rehearsal course under my belt. I'll be able to fully comprehend the movement of HalOtis' soon TBA project.

-k and +k anyone?

Everything Has finally Paid off.
Despite the disappointment, Stress and Anxiety of Match Day, I've got a job. A job that I competed against senior chemical engineering students for.

I really can't wait to start. This should be quite a change of pace from what I've been used to with work. Making a little over 2.5 times my previous salary, the motivation to do more is certainly there as well.

I'm asked if I have ethical issues with my employer or with what I'll be doing. Why? How? I'll be employed with the one of the world's largest corporations working amongst some of the most advanced technologies of the field. Perhaps where they see ethical conflict I'm the seeing endless networking and learning opportunities.

So then you ask, if it's all so good, what's the price?
Well, The price paid for this good fortune is the inability to travel home for any length of time longer than 2 weeks for the next year at least.

Well, the Beer is cheaper and the Weather is better here; That's what I'll keep telling myself.
But It's not like I need reassurance.

Well Match Day didn't turn out quite as I had expected, nor as I had been assured it would.

Of all the jobs I had been interviewed for, 5 placed their rankings.
The result: ranked for all.

I've resisted the urge to examine myself and my methods for some systematic error. I know full well that for one of those interviews, my first ever telephone interview, I didn't deserve any job based upon the impression I may have cast from the interview. So I guess in a way, being ranked for that position is flattering. But the competition was heavy for this round. It was an unannounced job battle between two of us. Of course we never dropped our friendly facades, always smiling when we'd see the other outside the interview room. Always the two of two when only two were being interviewed for the most prestigious positions.

Of all the other positions "ranked" I was only really geared, hoping, wishing to get one. But I imagine the promise of development work, field work, helicopter trips, and travel also made it a highly sought after position for everyone else.
I had really given that interview my all and alas, a lack of a desirable result; Hence my disappointment.

But I think the most disappointing part of the entire process is the Lack of a response by the companies offering the positions I desired the most. For these jobs I was one of only 2 people interviewed for them. They had already shorted listed the people for the jobs, then interviewed. I suppose the last minute nature of the interviews may have made it impossible for them to have their rankings/offers in on time.

But then again, a position which would have had me going a kilometer underground interviewed 10:15 Friday morning and posted it's rankings by 4pm.

Thank god I didn't get that one.

I've got a lump in my throat.
There's a pit in my stomach,
some butterflies too.

I'm about to be measured against my peers,
those at Dal, and of engineering across Canada.

24 hours from right now, maybe a little before, I'll know.
I'll know where I'm going or where I'm not and the anxiety is becoming almost unbarable.

Tomorrow, Friday, October 21st, 2005 is "match day". I find out to whom I've been matched, if to anyone.

If I'm this axnious know,
how will it be tomorrow?
That thought is a little worrisome.

Is this it? Am I holding my future in my hands right here? 4 days until we fnid out.

The World's biggest Oil Companies, do they love me? After all the interviews are over I hear everyone trading their experiences. Their's aren't like mine. My interviews seem to take a different path from everyone elses. Is it because I've included such a detailed description of my amitions in my applications? Is it because I mention Halotis? Is it Really so unique to have such a profound interest in robotics and in problem solving? What the hell does everyone else say when they're asked these questions, do they get the same wide eyed reactions, giggles, or flurry of amazement fueled questions I get?

I don't know anymore.

Today was dizzying. A 2 hour midterm splitting 2, 1 hour, grueling interviews.
I think I impressed them both, but now I'm not sure, My humble gene is kicking in (It doesn't usually). Are things really what they seem?

I'm tired.

Maybe it's because of where I live, Canada's fattest City but I'm beginning to feel like I'm on an endangered species list. Obesity is the rule of the land here.

As I stood, Suit Clad awaiting the Walk light at the Corner of Spring Garden Road I looked around. I was surrounded by 3 or 4 people, 2 of whom were at least twice my weight. I'm not sure how much time passed, but it was an uncomfortably long time. I didn't catch myself staring.

I was looking around, amazed at how they all looked alike. They obviously weren't related, but their facial features, specifically their noses looked identical.

The man felt my gaze and turned looking at me as if to say "what are ya staring at skinny?" But the light changed, and I skipped across the street under the chirp of the sight impairment aid. "Try and catch me fatty!" I felt like shouting behind me as I moved across the street with speed he hadn't had since birth.

I began to think as I walked toward my destination, Why are all their noses the same? Why are they all smooshed against their faces? Has anyone studied this?

Maybe the skin, or "casing" of the nose can't expand fast enough as the person gains weight and it just kinda deforms and falls back into the face. You know, it would be something like putting too much water in a water balloon, it kinda expands outward instead of getting longer. But then I thought again. Fat people don't really have fat noses as much as just squished noses.

Maybe it was a result of having Fat cheeks. Do their cheeks present a compressive load on their nose structure that just can't be resisted? Hence, forcing a failure and deformation of the nose resulting in it's smooshness. Nope, couldn't be this either. The noses almost look like they've been punched, squished inward, somewhat like a pug nose, a piglet's nose even. A cheek crushing would just collapsed it inward, making it's width smaller,but you see, the width of a fat persons nose is much greater than the normal nose.

So, Finally I had it. Serendipity. I looked up from my daze to the ongoing construction across the parking lot, popping a piece of sugar free gum in my mouth. I switched to nerd mode, It was Incredible how much steel they had sorted from the pile of rubble. But then my view was eclipsed. Passing between me and that deconstruction/construction lot was a person of considerable girth, Muffin in hand. That muffin disappeared.

That was it! They're noses are squished! They do get pushed and punched in! Imagine how they got fat. A fat person jams as many cheeseburgers, cupcakes, pies, pizza slices, hot dogs or Handfuls of fries in their "gob" as fast as they can. It's how they get fat.

Imagine if the burger or the cupcake is too big, It can't fit in their mouth. But they certainly still eat it, I mean, leaving a cheeseburger to waste because it can't fit in one's mouth is a blimpo's nightmare, so they stuff it in, they make it fit in their mouth. The cheeseburger overflows around their lips, impacting their nose. Imagine doing this a 100 times, a thousand times, every time you eat! You're nose can't take that many slams as you dunk the junk into your cake hole. It smooshes!

So, next time you reach for that hotdog or you want to sign up for that pie eating competition, remember, it's not only your waistline that's gonna burst, your pretty little face is gonna be bulldogasized.

Be civilized for the sake of your face. If it doesn't fit in your mouth, use a knife, cut it down to size, For the love of a normal nose.

The last few days have been somewhat of a disappointment. There was the ever present gloom of getting back a terrible fluids test, the lack of any responses from employers, and the absence of anything productive to do.

Fast forward with a summarizing timeline:

Sunday: Got brutalized in the annual East vs. West St. John's Football game amongst friends turned enemies. Final score 5 (us) to 12 (them, east).

Monday: Never hurting so bad in my life, I jam myself into seat 31 D on an airbus 320a (i.e. the last seat on the plane, the chair cannot recline against the wall). My legs, apparently made of freshly mixed cement, harden and cure, freezing in place.

Tuesday: 13 hours of school/machineshop education. This day brought to you by overpriced Advil Liquigels.

Wednesday: (turning point) Day flies bay, stiffness from my muscles is somewhat gone, no need for pain killers, bruises now turning yellow remain leaving my race somewhat ambiguous. I get back my Fluid Mechanics test, my jaw drops. 81% with a class average of "55% - 60%"

Thursday: 3 hours of boring, tedious class, midterm exam announced for coming Monday. Walking somewhat more normally, stiffness now at a minimum I Return home to discover I've been invited to 4 job interviews; 3 with massive international corporations, the first one being Friday; the next day at 9:30am.

Thursday: (afternoon) Do a victory dance which lasts an hour

Thursday: (night) Contemplating launching a lawsuit against the Gillette corporation after having my face destroyed by a brand new Mach 3 Turbo razor blade. They're sharp alright, sharp enough to slice hair and skin in a single pass. Thank god those sons of bitches at Gillette decided to put that "advanced" lubricant strip on the razor!

I just had the big one, the interview I'd been looking forward to, well... since ever. I pulled out all the stops: I went to kinkos and printed off all my prized reports, had them bound, bought a new suit and new shoes and sat for a new hair cut.

And what happened?

It went stellar. Moreso than any interview I've ever had. I nailed every question, gave them a summary of my experiences and told them just how I'd be as an employee for them.

But Luck played a major role.

While talking about my former employer I filled with dread. No, I wasn't hiding anything. Nothing bad to say. As I went through my previous assignments from my last job I realized I'd left my references at home. Laser printer and neatly filed on my desk. I fought to keep my cool. Keep my eyes relaxed, and said a silent prayer to Christ that they wouldn't ask for my references. I could hear the Coop people saying it again, "Always bring your references to the Interview, failure to do so will result in you being screened out!"

The interview jetted passed, an hour in 5 minutes. They set questions up and I knocked them down. Finally he opened his briefcase.

My eyes did go wide this time. "A job offer? Already? Holy shit! I thought as I saw the emblem on the page, then calmed.... no.. it couldn't be. Relax Colum, this is the real world."

He leaned across the desk. "That was great.... Alright, now this is a post-interview form, essentially a follow-up form.... we outsource some of HR, so this goes to a third party company, just fill in your references, basic job descriptions and fax it off, we'll provide them with the rest and they'll follow up on everything....."

I could have screamed! Yes!! YES!! I love outsourcing!

Little did he or anyone else know. I was spared the embarrassment and the disaster of being found out. Coop Lady always says: "No references for interview = no job. A very simple equation my friends. Doesn't take an engineer to understand it, only a recruiter". Cue nerd Laughter.

I happily shook his hand and left.

---
Now we'll see how well I hold up with competition from the likes of Waterloo, UBC, UoT, and McGill.

But being only one of 2 Mechanicals interviewed at Dalhousie, is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Well regardless, I'm happy, ecstatic even, my fingers are crossed.

I went to the Halifax career fair yesterday. I've been here for three years, but this was my first one. I'm not sure why I didn't go to one before. Maybe because I always considered it a hassle, something that wouldn't really be worth my time, or maybe I was just too lazy. Either way, I'm glad I went yesterday . I copied my resume, donned my suit and tie, polished my shoes and crossed the bridge to Dartmouth.

The place was filled with engineering companies. I was blown away, you'd walk by a both and the recruiters would actually jump out and shake your hand.

"So you're from Dal." A recruiter emerged from the crowd in front of the first booth I had glanced at. I was shocked. A very attractive woman, bursting out of no where and jumping into my face, "close talking".

I regained my footing and shook her hand. "Why yes I am, Dal Mechanical engineering actually, I'm Colum Furey." She smiled and introduced herself and began her speech. I made a joke about how my name tag wouldn't stick to my Suit jacket (a la Larry David) and then I dove straight into the prepared question list I had made, asking about co-op opportunities, salaries and all the like.

I moved from booth to booth, now ready for what was going to happen. The same scene played out, overly enthusiastic recruiters jumping out, smiling, waving me in. Each one seeing the Dalhousie emblem name tag and asking if I was an engineering student. Was it written in invisible ink on me somewhere?

I had only brought 10 copies of my resume and had handed them all out in less than an hour and a half. In most cases the recruiters had asked me my discipline and my GPA. Most of them had been amazed, they hadn't bothered hiding it either.

"4 point Oh?" The repeated back to me, somewhat in disbelief.

"Well it's out of 4.30, but it still represents an A average, 80-90 percent roughly." I said, trying to be humble, but my ego was screaming "YES!!! They love this shit!" from behind my blushing cheeks.

"That's incredible, you must really have self discipline and drive" yadda yadda. "Do you have a resume?" "Could we have a copy?... " You're really what this company is looking for..." yadda yadda... They enthusiastically told me.

....
It was really something else. I'm so used to having to go and hunt for jobs only to be met by unenthusiastic, unmotivated HR people and being told unapologetically, "we're not hiring", or "sorry, we don't have an positions available right now, but we'll gladly keep your application on file."

Even if nothing comes from all the "networking with employers", it was nice, even fun to have employers actually want you, compliment and even fight over you.

...... And what made it all happen? The study I'm so often told... And so I get back to it... hoping the sacrifice of this weekend and the last and what ever else needed after that maybe worth it.