Mazel tov!

I had a feeling that Friday night was going to be a good night, a good good night.

Mazel tov'ing it up on the D-Floor.

I have never enjoyed dancing. The very thought of it made me nauseous as I recounted the excruciating awkwardness of highland dancing, blue light discos, socials, school balls, raves and clubbing.

As I stood still I would observe respectable people looking, well, not-that-respectable. I thought it better to stand still, endure the abuse then go home and remind myself what real music sounded like. The more they pleaded with me to dance, the more sure I was that my 'foot tap' was a set-in-stone winner.

But as time went on something far less avoidable than clubbing or school socials came across my path - weddings dances.

I liken it to getting caught in the rain - for a while you do your best to keep dry, running for shelter, holding your bag above your head etc, until you reach a point where you simply surrender.
No running, no sheltering, at that point even your undies are wet so you might as well celebrate the feeling.

And with the monsoon of weddings, I soon got to the point of surrender. My stoic resolve to remain static was broken down one 80's track at a time.
Dancing Queen, YMCA, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Dancing on the Ceiling, Grease Lightning, each like a bullet in my non-dancing soul.

So now I am a changed man. I have forfeited my role as the lonely foot-tapper and embraced my place on the d-floor. I am no Ursher when it comes to busting a move, but I'm not far off.

All and all it's been a journey, but a worthwhile one all the same. And if all falls apart and goes astray I know that my trusted 'foot tap' dance move will never let me down.

Mazel tov!

State your name after the tone...

...followed by the hash key.
These are the last words you hear before being plunged into a world of pain.

I'm talking about conference calling, or as we in the industry call them – “concalls”.
Concalls are a form mental torture cleverly disguised as "collaboration".

The basic gist of a concall is, a group of people get on their respective phones and 'dial in' to a shared phone call and talk to one another.

The aim of the game is to talk in the most dull, monotone voice for as long as possible. Whoever gets the most air-time wins.

More often than not I take a non-speaking role in these games of endurance. My main objective for each call is not to push the agenda or chase up action points, but to stay conscious

There are a couple of reasons for this:
- Hunching over when unconscious is an OH&S nightmare.
- You need to be ready for the unexpected "line checker".

I've been caught out more than I'd like to admit. It's the moment where your concall induced slumber is abruptly interrupted by a "is that right Jiwan? What do you think?"

What ensues is a moment of pure panic, you're mind is flooded with questions like:
"why am I awake?","who said that?","where am I and why does my neck hurt?", "what the heck are we talking about?"

And after you've wiped the dribble from the corner of your mouth, you quickly realise you have two choices:

- Admit guilt and ask for them to repeat the last half hour of discussion.
- Pretend that you're still in the game, and always have been.

And because no one likes a failure, you always opt for path number two.
Here are two of my game-savers:
- "Sorry, the receptions really bad here and I only got bits of the last 5 minutes, could you repeat the question"
- "Could you rephrase the question please?"
- "Yes I agree?"

Either way, there is no avoiding the dreaded concall so I'm doing my best to keep them exciting.
Maybe I'll adopt a speaking role for my next appearance.

'New Seal'and

People are often fooled into thinking that New Zealand got its name from Mr Tasman, naming the new found land after the Dutch province of Zeeland.
Typical Dutch, and not to mention - wrong.

Far more compelling is the fact that New Zealand is named after the most frequent naturally occurring phenomenon experienced throughout the country - road works.

Coming across "New Seal" in New Zealand is just as safe as finding water in the ocean.

Actually, I think that New Zealander's build roads especially so that they can widen them later. Brilliant. How else could we ever afford to buy so many high visibility jackets for our workforce?

Sometimes you'll come across road signs telling you to slow down to 30km/h, even when there is no evidence of road works. This is no mistake. This is training.
The more experienced of us can imagine the crunch of new gravel under our tyres, visualise the grey mist and smell the tar as we pass through these training stations.

So next time you see our familiar friends in the orange waistcoats, don't be a hater. These men are on the frontline, representing a country that is defined by the newness of its tar seal.

Ode to Nokia

Old faithful. Never complains, never seeks attention, doesn't sulk when it's ignored. Just stays consistent and ready. This is an ode to the Nokia phone.

Just like the multi-lingual, sure you can become fluent in other languages, but there is always something natural about returning to your mother tounge.

And so it is with Nokia. They taught a generation the language of "mobile phone", and we will never forget it.

I know we're all fluent in iPhone and Blackberry, but put a Nokia in our hands and it's like we'd never parted ways.

- Who taught us that the letter "j" was on the "5" key? Nokia

- Who taught us how to use predictive? Nokia

- Who taught us to think in menu's? Nokia

- Who taught us to the importance of locking our keypad? Nokia.

- Who brought us snake? Nokia

I work for a large IT company who produces their own 'phones', and I have had the displeasure of using one for the last 12-18 months. For all of it's features one couldn't ignore the fact that it was absolutely gigantic. If I had been stuck at the top of a mountain range, I would have had no problems using it as a toboggan. As a result my texting had gone from lots to not lots, why? Becuase texting on this brick of a device was akin to defusing a bomb. You had to navigate through about 4 menus, then try and use the clumsy buttons, all while supporting the weight of the phone itself.

But recently something miraculous happened - something unimaginably great.

I ran over it.

Yup, I left it on the roof of my car by mistake. It fell off, and I ran over it. In fact so did everyone else who was driving behind me.

As a result, I had to get a replacement phone from work. Strewn across the desk before me were about 4 different phone options. But gleaming amongst the selection was something I simply couldn't resist.

Old faithful.

As quick as a flash, my sim card was in and my ears were treated to the beautiful melody that rings through our childhood - the Nokia tune.

It's been at least 10 minutes now, and I feel alive again.

Thank you Nokia.

Dethroned

It happened.

The cruel realities of corporate hot-desking left me out in the cold and my territory that I had lovingly created and arranged is no more. For a bit of background read: http://jiwanrai.blogspot.com/2010/02/room-with-view.html

I arrived at work today ready to take on the world, only to find boxes strewn across my desk, my screen connected to someone elses laptop and my work space overthrown.

I locked eyes with the culprit and she said "Oh sorry, I'm had to move here permanently. My stuff is everywhere sorry." She looked guilty, but deep down I knew she was loving it.
She'd played her hand and royal flushed me out of contention.

And I had, well nothing.

So the hunt resumes for the perfect office seat. All I can do is hope that the gods of Hot-desking deal me a good hand.

Re-Fail Therapy

I just spent the last 20 minutes watching people embarrass, injure and make fools out of themselves.
And whats more - I enjoyed even second of it.

What is it about human nature that takes pleasure in other peoples misfortune? In fact, sometimes when I'm feeling uninspired I'll indulge in what I like to call "re-fail therapy". Driven by the knowledge that within minutes of surfing through 100's of candid video footage I'll be in tears of laughter.
Here's one I found recently:


It's gotten so bad that I now know all most all of the fail videos on YouTube just by looking at the description. I feel like an addict.
But is it all just innocent viewing for the sake of entertainment? Or is it that we like to see other fail to make us feel better about our own life? Or something more sinister...

Either way lurking underneath all this is that undeniable feeling of fate, or often expressed as "what goes around comes around". I can't shake the feeling that the more I take pleasure in other peoples failures the more likely it is that the laws of nature will turn against me. We've all taken a tumble, we've all done mindless things, I guess the best I can do is make sure no cameras are present when it happens.

eMANticons

If you grew up in the advent of instant messaging you'll know exactly what an emoticon is. What started as a simple ":)" soon transformed into little yellow smiling faces into what are now fully moving animations. Almost every emotion can be expressed: anger, sickness, sadness, embarrassment, peacefulness, love and not to forget plain old happiness.

Now if you're an emotional type of person, emoticons are fantastic. If on the other hand you are a man then emoticons just don't cut the mustard.

In fact the use of emoticons in man-to-man communications is a huge no-no. Sending a smiley to another man is basically a public invalidation of your masculinity.

So let me introduce to you - eMANticons. Designed by men - for men.

Here are some examples you might like to use:

This is a symbol representing a flexed bicep indicating raw strength and general power.

A gun - representing a killer instinct and an ability to inflict pain.

This is a hammer, representing our ability to hit stuff and create things with ease.

This symbolises a BBQ hotplate and grill. I don't even need to explain the link there.

These are just some tasters into the world of eMANticons - the new frontier in man-to-man online communication. =()=/

Mini bus - Mega pain

After the serpent had finished convincing Eve to eat the apple, he got to work on his next evil plan - the Multi Purpose Vehicle aka. the MPV.

The MPV is to the road what seaweed is to the ocean. Sure it's designed to be there- but damn it's annoying.

You've all seen them, the big bubble like vehicles which look like vans that have been punched in the face. They go by many names - MPV's, People Movers, Mini-vans, people carriers. Call them what you will there's no escaping the fact that they are simply Not. That. Cool.

What amazes me is that they exist in a gap between some of the coolest vehicles ever,
Vans = Awesome,
Station Wagons = Super awesome.
MPV's = Neither of the previous descriptions.

So what is it about them that earns MPV's their reputation? ...I thought you'd never ask.

1) Size - They are big. Kind of like a mobile boulder. That comibined with in inexplicable ability to park in the middle of the road makes MPV's some of the best traffic flow controllers on the market.
2) Shape - MPV's are the answer to the question: How do you make a square aerodynamic? But if you've ever used a Blackberry you'll know just because something has curved edges doesn't mean it's good.
3) The Driver - I don't know how it happens, but the MPV seems to ensnare a very specific type of victim and generally speaking driving ability is not a trait shared between them. Some of the most eye watering on-road maneuvers are executed by none other than the MPV.
Heard of the 10-point turn? Invented and popularized by the MPV.

Now some families are forced to buy bigger vehicles to accommodate their multitudes of children. And when I voice my opinion I'm often asked "well, what would you do if you had 5 children?"
Firstly - I wouldn't.
Secondly - Bus passes.

Maybe as I grow older my prejudices will fade away, and I will sell my soul to the family wagon as the pressures of family life build up. But until then the MPV will remain my on-road nemesis.

Gride and Broom

Wedding speeches, an endurance sport at the best of times - unless of course it's you with the new rings on.

However, sometimes in such moments come unexpected pearls of relief. Moments that bring you back to full consciousness like a sharp slap to the face.

I was at a wedding recently slipping in and out of reality when the speaker in all his nervousness announced "gride and broom". Pow - he now had my full attention. I thought "how's he going to recover from this one..?"

Better than I could have ever imagined.

In a fluster he blurted out "Gride and Broom!" as if to resolve the situation he was now sinking deeper into. One more time "Gride and Broom!", now red faced and feeling the crowd grow restless it must have suddenly occurred that he'd mixed up the words.
So with a sense of relief he corrected himself once and for all - "broom and gride."

That was it for me. That was the final straw. With those last three words I was hurled into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Not the loud type of laughter, not in the joyful sense of laughter. More like the eyes watering, body convulsing, gasping for breath type of laughter - topped off with small high pitch squeaks.

For the remainder of the speech I was reduced to a smoldering heap of giggles and I can't remember much else from that point on unfortunately.
To finish, it has to be said that a good laugh is very therapeutic, albeit usually at the most inappropriate moments.

Fool Ain't Got No Game

How could this happen? Surely not to me?

This used to be my house, but now I don't even have rights to check the letterbox.

B-Ball. It was my game, for years in a row I dominated the courts. For 3 straight years I played everyday, I was on a one way ride to the NBA.

But I fell short. My goal was 6 foot 6, but my body had other ideas. At a whopping 5 foot 7 the old growth genes thought, lets take a breather.

As I shrunk (in relation to my friends), so to did the dreams of slam dunking. Slowly, the game I loved faded into something I played. The 3 year record - broken, I fouled out, fade away jumped into the distance.

Not long ago it all sank in. I was playing ball with a bunch of white friends and a couple of girls, not exactly a picture of fierce competition.

For a moment or two I acted casual, waiting for the moment to unleash my unmistakable game in the faces of my opponents.

But it never happened. I even missed a layup, flip.

I took a bite of humble pie, and it didn't taste good.

I feel my credibility as a low-down-bad-to-the-bone-gansta-baller is starting to slip.

Facebook Guilt

I have a mild case of Facebook guilt.
Everytime I sign in through those familiar blue and white doors I can't help but feel the weight of photos that I haven't yet uploaded, the comments I haven't made, the events I haven't RSVP'd to, the status's I haven't "liked" and worst of all the friend suggestions that I've ignored for months now!

For all my good intentions facebook is a purely selfish experience. the first thing I look for is the little red flag. A symbol signaling that my face or my words have captured the attention of millions of users around the globe. For a moment in time I am interested, clicking links with the excitement of a web developer.

However, once I've exhasted the links on my little red flag the world slows down again. I return to the Facebook trance, aimlessly looking through photos of people I haven't spoken to since I met them and reading about the breakup of relationships I didn't know existed in the first place.

According to the home page: Facebook helps you connect and share with the people in your life -here comes that guilting feeling again.

Room with a view

At work, we have a brilliant scheme called "hot desking". The theory is that workers can come into work, chose any desk they like and sit back while enjoying the sweet aroma of variety.

In practice what this means is that all the important people choose the desks near the windows arranging them in such a way that you dare not touch them. And if you do... you get asked friendly questions like, "what are you doing in my seat?" and "do you mind if I punch you?"

Predictably what's left over are the inner floor desks, often by doorways or collaboration areas, lit only by artificial rays. Perfect for the technicians who get third degree burns if exposed to sunlight.

Not long ago, our whole helpdesk services group was relocated leaving what I'd call "a window seat of opportunity".

Now that I've established myself as a resident of the window desks I'm having to devise new ways of securing my area. So far the most effective strategies have been:

- Leaving important looking documents on my desk

- leaving a named drink bottle just in front of the screen

- asking questions like "what are you doing in my seat?" and "do you mind if I punch you?"

The Caffeine Resurgence

Mid last year I went on a quest to rid myself of the effects of coffee drinking. And I succeeded.

I went cold on drinking the hot stuff and no longer was held to ransom by the 11am caffeine headache. Liberation one could only dream of.

However... once deshackled from my vice I decided that having one or two a week on a social basis wouldn't be an issue. And it wasnt, quite the opposite - it was fantastic.

As play continued, my love for the perfect brew was stoked into full flame. Now, instead of a passtime, coffee had become a persuit. I'm not usually a snob, but when you start to know what you like, often you understand what you don't like.

My eyes were opened (literally) when I paid a visit to Atomic Coffee Roasters in Kingsland and indulged in a short black (straight espresso) - possibly the most delicious coffee I've ever lived to experience.

As if guidance from above, my caffeine habbits were cemented in place when Sherie an I were gifted a small, yet overly effective coffee machine. It was like giving an 8 year-old a coke dispenser.

Needless to say my additions have settled in somewhat, and my persuit for the perfect coffee has only intensified.

Ohh, its almost 11am....

Streaming Radio

As is fast becoming apparent, any allegations of me being a geek are purely based on the fact that I'm employed by an IT company.
In real life, I'm reasonably behind the game - illustrated by the fact that I only discovered the world of online radio this week.
Smooth jazz on sky fm is my flavour of the month. Who knew that you could tune into such tasty tunes at the click of a button? Perhaps 'the rest of the educated word' would be your response, but it's been a major revelation for me.
http://www.sky.fm/smoothjazz/ - your portal to an endless elevator ride.

Might switch to the urban jamz channel soon...

Lets get it started

As a member of the wider IT community, I thought it rude not to have a blog? Now at least I have something to talk about at geek conferences and awkward client meetings with the socially inept.
I'm sure that the simple achievement of owning a blog will add credit to my CV, and push me up the ranks of the ruthless IT society hierarchy.
Now let me check my harddrive and see if there is anything worth sharing with the world...