Some days, you just can't win.

"What's the schedule?" "Where's the process?" "Are you going to use the new Change Control?" "Do I have some of that budget?" "What pool is providing resources?" "Where is the testing lab? How long is the soak?" "Will this hit the account P&L?"

Being a project manager means putting up with a lot of people wanting to know, in essence, "Are we there yet?"

Ick. bah. stresscakes.

At times like this, I do what I must. To mangle James Taylor (more than he did to himself): For a few moments I take my mind on vacations and I go to Spetses in my mind.

Spetses, Greece (copyright: Member Maurizio42)

Spetses is a smallish island of Greece. After landing at Athens airport, take a cab to Piraeus Seaport and then catch a slow ferry. After about 4 hours of hitting all the islands in between, you'll be deposited at Spetses.

The water is warm there, and the year-rounder folks are friendly; well-seasoned in tourism, with the British being the main visiting population. There are shops, pubs, and disco's at night.

But for those seeking peace; Spetses is an idyllic goal. Outside the 20 square blocks of the main town, most of the island is hushed and quiet and covered in pine trees. Most of the ground - even down to the blue sea -is rocky, and the roads little more than paths. There are only 2 cars on the Island, but about 200 mopeds. A salad of tomato, feta, and onion will cost you about $1. A Diet Coke? $3.

I never got the "Toga" thing until Spetses. They left piles of soft, thin sheets in my room and I eventually realized that they were for wearing. The hottest part of the afternoon, dip in for a swim and then tie a sheet loosely around golden skin. My usual modesty left back somewhere cold; dozens of Spetsians have seen my breasts - back when they were something to see. Not that anyone cared.

Glorious hours lazing in the shade, the world on "pause". Maybe a stroll towards the old monastery. If you get lost and end up at a fisherman's house, the family will probably teach you some Greek and show you their nets and the new hull in process. Maybe invite you for lunch.

At least, they did for me.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:17 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Something NEVER.SEEN.BEFORE: Elizabeth, attempting golf.

Everyone in my family has played and does play. I have managed to avoid this one sport all my life.

Until now.

Why did I pick up a golf club for the first time in my memory and standing at an angle guaranteed to do me no favors and whacking at a little white ball like a lunatic with my chest in the way?

Simple: my career.

Twice now, I have bowed out of golf outings that later I regretted.

So I'm sucking it up. Let's have a moment of silence while I write a check to the nice golf instructor...

**Extra credit if you noticed that despite my golf club high up in the air, the ball is still on the tee. That's right boys and girls. I missed. A lot. Therefore, no pictures of an empty tee - despite Bear's enthusiastic cheerleading of "good shot, Mommy!"

Posted by: Elizabeth at 08:59 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Being comfortable with my job comes only in lulls. Sometimes I think that is because I am the only woman around. But sometimes I think maybe everyone feels this way at some time or another.

With the budget bump of my new program came a new supervising executive I hadn't worked with before. I call him "El Capitan". He's focused; imagine Martin Sheen's character, on West Wing, as he cuts off another character by saying "OK, What's next?"

Before El Capitan, my status meetings and communication plans tended to go smoothly. I prepare exhaustively - distilling the tentacles of the subprojects to points of risk, achievement, challenge and overall progress (plan, schedule, and budget).

But El Capitan charges into slide decks with a scythe. He's been clearly unsatisfied but with no visible reason why: drilling me on minutiae with terse comments on low-chance risks.

I asked one of my mentors, Sage Reasoner, for advice.

SR: "Learn to get along with El Capitan."

Me: "Uh, thanks."

Tonight, the vendor called me during dinner, to ask me if I knew that he and El were flying into town tomorrow.

If I say yes, I'm a liar.
If I say no, I look like an out-of-the-loop idiot.

What to do?

I said, breezily, "Tomorrow? We'd talked about a face-to-face soon... well, that works for me. Email me a schedule, tonight if you can."

Then I called SR.

Me: "Argggggggghhhhhhhhhh! Sneak Attack! Bwuddah, hudduh, dibbah, doo!"

SR: "OK. What did I tell you?"

Me: "Learn to get along?"

SR: "There you go."

I could actually freaking feel SR laughing at me.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the Vendor's forwarded schedule. I could see by the email trail that he and EC had been plotting it for over a week. That other folks had been aware. I fought back frustration at having so much responsibility yet being left out of the loop.

It took 3 phone calls to set up on-sites with key personnel. I checked that my favorite slacks were back from the cleaners, the weather forecast, and then compiled an agenda, and attached a swiftly created slide deck.

At 10PM, I started closing everything up - satisfied I'd done the best I could. That I was ready for whatever got thrown my way next.

I should have known better.

The vendor called. "El Capitan and I just skimmed the deck you sent. It answers any questions we may have had. So we're going to spend tomorrow with the folks over at VendorB to see if we can hammer out a new cooperative agreement for a different program."

After he hung up, I stared at the phone for a long time.

Then I began to systematically bang my head on my desk.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:45 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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After I wrote this and a few other entries like this one, it was pointed out to me that such and entry that could get me "Dooced." As in, like Heather/Dooce, fired for blogging about work.

I pooh-poohed the very idea.

To be on the safe side, I spoke to some people at work. Turns out we have a BLOGGING GUIDELINE. In capital letters, yes indeedy.

It says:
1) I can not Blog on company time (check!)
2) I can not blog on company equipment (check!)
3) I can not post photographs of my company's products, locations, or other employees (unless with explicit written permission) (check!)
4) I can not reveal my company's business or that of its partners in a way that would compromise its identity or operations.

So I called HR. The HR rep spoke to me in italics. Like we were talking about something naughty. She wanted to know the address of my Blog. Because I really am just that stupid?

"No," I hedged. "I'm just thinking about it."

She gave me a hmm-mmm that sounded suspiciously like my 4th grade teacher's but all right then.

She said "It's not a good idea."

I waited.

She said "If you must, I wouldn't talk about your work. At All."

Because, that's only about - uh - 10 hours out of each of my days??

*sigh*

She softened a bit: "Keep in generic. Don't single anyone out. Stay on th e positive. This hasn't been an issue so far, but I imagine it will be soon enough. Do you hear what I am saying?"

Honey, wombats in New Zealand hear what you are saying.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 08:36 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The afternoon plan was this:
1) pick up Bear and his babysitter
2) stop at Town Hall and get permission slip for garage sale on Saturday
3) arrive home
4) make self a tomato sandwich (lightly buttered toast, fresh tomato slices, salt, pepper, and maybe some herbs or cheese crumbles if handy) and sweet tea (half herbal iced tea, half lemonade) and
5)catch 30 minutes of my current guilty pleasure - Dawson's Creek reruns.
6)Then work myself silly for another 5 hours.

Instead:
1) picked up kidlet and babysitter
2) dropped them off at one of the town's water parks with $1 for an ice cream
3) raced to where I thought Town Hall was
4) looked around some more for Town Hall
5) called 411 and asked for directions for Town Hall
6) found Town Hall
7) circled Town Hall. and again. finally found parking.
begged for a garage sale permit, despite less than 7 days notice. Was chided. Complimented clerk on picture of baby granddaughter.
9)Got permit.
10) headed back to water park
11) Answered cell at intersection before water park

And here the wagon fell off its wheels. Thud.

Me: Mr. Vendor Rep! You were supposed to call me this morning

VR: I had to go out of town

Me: So you're probably going to miss our meeting in Chicago tomorrow?

VR: Yes

Me: So the project manager you were going to assign to assist me - will he be making the trip?

VR: Not so much - he's no longer with my company

Me: So update me; how are you going to make next week's milestone?

And out of the corner of my eye I see that Bear and babysitter - both wet - are approaching the van.

At the same time VR quickly conferences in "Vendor Rep 2" - a guy he thinks might be helpful to our cause.

Simultaneously I hear VR and VR2 come on the line I hear... "MOMMMMMMMMY! Where's my popsicle? I don't want to go home!!! I want to stay and play!!!!! MommmY!" and then PUSH the "mute" button.. yes...toooo flipping late.

VR: Elizabeth? Are you there?

VR2: I need to change phones, I'm hearing a lot of noise in the background...

Sometimes, I HATE being a work-at-home (or van) Mom.

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Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:41 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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