dictation's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- TGI...almost...F So ...while I wait for my floors to dry - for the billionth time in a month (post-construction clean up), I may as well share a tale out of school. I spent the past two days at a conference. Yesterday all of the participants were asked to critique an economic review. The report was poorly written and contained so many spelling and grammatical errors that I assumed it had either been invented from scratch or constructed using excerpts from a number of mediocre reports. (The exercise annoyed me because it was too easy. It's much harder to critique a paper that makes the grade but could use some improvement. In the REAL world, this is more often the case.) The geographic origin of the document was impossible to determine as all the place names had been changed to various cities and towns across North America. Everyone in the room assumed the document was a joke and openly mocked it. It deserved ridicule because, as I said, it was poorly written and lacked any meaningful structure. It wasn't even close to publishable. It turned out the document belonged to one of the conference participants. The host KNEW this. The author had not been forewarned that his work would be used as an example of how not to write a review. Ok, so get this. None of us knew and all of us - including the author who pretended it wasn't his to save face - proceeded to rip into it. Indeed, this had been our task. Flipcharts quickly filled with criticisms that ran the gamut. We treated it as a joke and spared no criticism. This morning a colleague whispered that it had been 'someone's, paper and that the someone was mortified. He didn't tell me who and I didn't want to know. Later, during a morning break, the someone told me himself. So I know who it is and, frankly, I am surprised. He's an intelligent, educated, thoughtful, and articulate person who runs a successful business. I find it hard to believe he's the author. I'd assumed the author had been B, a certifiable dimbulb I have no respect for anyway. But P? No way! Not possible. Yet there he stood, numbly sharing the news with me. I avoided discussing his paper because I had not changed my opinion of it. Also, I couldn't be sure the host hadn't deliberately worsened it to further cloud his identity. P didn't say so, therefore it's likely she only changed the place names. In any case, I wasn't about to be a hypocrite and compliment his paper. What I did share - with complete sincerity - was my utter disgust that his work had been exploited in this way. The whole thing smacked of petty and unnecessary cruelty and it infuriated me. Any of us could have been targets. I didn't apologize for my own contribution to the critique because I meant all of it. The paper stinks, and if he penned it then something's terribly wrong and it needs to be addressed. Just not in this way. Unfortunately the workshop host wasn't around today to ream out. I did pull the conference co-ordinator aside and tell her how offended I was and that others were offended too. It turns out that the sample review was supposed to be a compendium of excerpts from many reviews. Somewhere along the line the communication broke down. That's no excuse, however, and someone needs to apologize to this guy. God, if they'd used one of my reports I would have abandoned the conference altogether. You gotta wonder about these so-called professionals, eh? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Every week day for the past five weeks I have had to wash three floors after work. The front hall, the bathroom, and the kitchen. I've also had to clean the bathtub and both sinks and wipe away plaster dust from various exposed surfaces. All of this takes up precious after-work relaxation time. I'm sitting at the computer waiting for the floors to dry, after which I will make myself dinner. It's 8:20. I was hoping, reallllllly hoping that this would be the last of the floor washing, but no. The repiping project was supposed to have concluded today; but of course, OF COURSE, the crew just had to forget to re-attach four tiles in the bathroom. Which means - they'll track mud and plaster and crud all over my floors; and - I'll spend one more night cleaning up after them. GoodGodAlmighty. And my period is due any day and I'm CRANKY. This entry was interrupted by Statistics Canada calling to interview me for the labour force survey which I'm really not in the mood for and even though nothing has changed since they last interviewed me, the girl has to ask me the same old questions verbatim. It's not a long survey...maybe 15 minutes. But it's a looooong 15 minutes. We got through it and I was ready to hang up, when she asked if I would participate in a travel survey. Right then. I asked if it was mandatory or voluntary - as some surveys by the gov't are mandatory, but this one wasn't, thank god, so I said no and I got ready to hang up. She asked if I would reconsider. I explained I was in the middle of a home construction project and tired and cranky and not in the mood. And.... and.......... and.... SHE ASKED AGAIN. I lost it a little. I told her that I'd already said no twice. I know my Nos. If I say no I mean no. No need to ask me again after the second time. "It's my job to persuade you," she said. aaaargh. It's a voluntary survey! Leave me alone! 11:39 p.m. - 2004-03-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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