...and how may I avoid serving you today?

I'm not sure I've ever been so rudely treated in a consumer transaction in all my life.

Since my first flight in August 2000, I've become quite the little sky-hopper, having caught rides on Air Canada, Air Canada Jazz, bmi (British Midland), Canada 3000, CanJet, easyJet, jetBlue, and WestJet, from 16 different airports. This past week, I added one new airport (San Francisco), and one new airline (United), and I was thoroughly underwhelmed.

In my previous US flight experiences on jetBlue, order and civility were maintained — even at their incredibly busy national hub at Logan in Boston. I was spoken to with courtesy, and was made to feel that my business was appreciated. I didn't receive any special treatment, just the manners that one expects in an interaction with another human being.

If I had to describe the scene at the United check-in gates at SFO, I might describe it as "bazaar-like". There was one woman, whose role, as far as I could tell, was to serve as some sort of carnival barker, straight out of a biography of P.T. Barnum. Every few minutes she'd walk to the front of this long line of people (next to the sign reading, 'Wait Here for Service'), and yelled (I'm paraphrasing) "*disgustedly* I don't know what you're still doing in line. It's all self check-in - staff are doing no check-ins.

I promptly went to the check-in kiosk and was told to speak to an agent. I asked the carnival barker for instructions, and she instructed me to wait in a quickly forming line for assistance. About fifteen minutes later, I was at the head of the line, and a woman came up to me, identified herself as the service supervisor, and asked me why I was standing there. I told her that a United employee had instructed me to wait there for assistance, and she said, "Well, I'm the supervisor for this area, and that's just simply not the case. You should have stayed at your machine and waited for assistance."

After reminding her that the machine instructed me to seek out assistance and that I was following the instructions of staff, she started telling staff members to stop doing what they were doing, and told me to push my way to service, otherwise I might never be called forward.

On the other hand, the United staff at YVR (Vancouver) and all the in-flight crews have been incredibly friendly and helpful. Nonetheless, if the service I received at San Francisco International Airport is typical of what I should expect, then my currently scheduled itinerary from Seattle to Halifax will be my last on United Airlines.

F––– — Would not recommend!!!!!!!!!!!

Update: My flight home at Christmas, also with United, was bumped three days late due to the Denver blizzards, and my original itinerary through Denver was changed to a, you guessed it, San Francisco routing. Aside from the three days of lateness, though, staff were significantly more helpful :)

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The San Francisco Treat

Hi, everyone, from sunny San Francisco, where the temperature is in the high teens (high 60s for any Yankee types). The land of the Golden Gate Bridge and Rice-a-Roni is treating me very well indeed. Aside from all the falling down that I'm doing. But, anyway.
This is only a quick note and the announcement of a contest. The only prize is glory, but it might still be fun.

My first night here, I had supper at Mel's Drive-In, and it was... delicious. The shocker was, along with my really excellent hot beef sandwich with mashed potatoes, was an assortment of vegetables. On a lark, I tried one and... I LIKED IT. Cue the end credits music, Maestro. The show is over.

Walter is taking his first tentative steps toward omnivorism!

The contest: what vegetable do I like? Hint: I'm not referring to potatoes!

Glory is at stake. Get guessing, readers!

You Look Great in White

[I wrote this October 16, as I was flying back to BC from Ottawa.]

Have I ever told you that white is your colour? I know you're a smartass, and that you're going to say that white is a shade. And you'd be right. So shut up. That's not the game we're playing today. Really, though, you look great in white. I think it's because you're so glum and monotonous most of the time, and white just brightens you right up. It makes me forget that usually the very site of you makes me cry.

At least we're not dating, You. If I had to wait as long for someone was dating as I do for you every time we see each other, I'd have gone insane by now. Fortunately, though, we don't see each other that often. Just a couple times a year. And it's always a matter of convenience.... I'm sorry, but I don't want to lie. You always seem to be on my way to someplace I actually what to be, and I just end up dropping in.

It snowed today in Calgary. Flying in from above, Calgary always looks so grey and non-descript, like their idea of æsthetics was to coat every building and street and piece of land with a inch-thick layer of tar sand from a little further north. Today, it was white, and felt so new and clean.

Since my connection was two hours, I decided I would re-clear security. I went outside and felt the brisk wind in my hair, and let the flurries (it could hardly be called snow) fall on my face, and it was glorious. The first snowfall of the season is always one of my favourite times of the year. In Vancouver, I'll likely not get it for weeks or months, if at all this year.

In Real Time, I'm off to make my connection to Victoria now. This will actually get posted in Victoria thanks to the magic of the Internet. Toodley-doo!

[Ok, that's a lie. Internet service in Victoria was lacking like a rock lacks gentle softness. Or like I lack tact.]

[Ok, that's a lie too. The part about Internet service. Not the part about me being a tactless buffoon. I was just a forgetful buffoon as well, and forgot to post it.]

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On the Access Conference and Life in the Westin

For those of you who may not have known, I've been in Ottawa since this Wednesday morning for the Access conference, an annual, Canadian-organized but cosmpolitan gathering of library technology wonks and their friends and well-wishers. As always, the organizers put on a great program. This was my third Access conference, a trend which I hope to continue. So far, I have attended these three conferences as the employee of three different employers, the South Shore Regional Library (Halifax), Okanagan College (Edmonton), and the BC Public Library Services Branch (this year in Ottawa), thanks to assistance from the British Columbia Library Association. This is a trend which I hope not to continue.

Next year's conference is taking place in Victoria, a scant hour from where I live, and a scant(er?) thirty seconds from where my job is officially supposed to be located. This probably means that I will be involved in organizing it somehow. As Cameron Metcalfe said today, when comparing organizing Access to being married, "not a vow you should expect me to renew".

Anyway, last night I went for supper at McDonald's across the street from the Westin. Being the conference venue, that was where I stayed. Now let me tell you, the Westin is divine. The beds had to be made of clouds. And the pillows, bundles of gentle kisses wrapped in the purest silk.

...

No? Was that imagery too terrifyingly creepy for you?

Anyway, four of these Bless'd Pillows resting atop a spring-loaded box of Providence. So you get the picture. Woot. :-D

Now where was I? McDonald's. Right. So, McDonald's is across the street on rue Wellington, and I decided I wanted to look at other places first. Possibly because of the filthy zoo inside, and the teenaged couple outside screaming at each other. Overheard: "Don't you get that you hurt me when you keep getting f**ked up like that?"

I walked a little way down the street. Someone asked me for a quarter, and I saw a drug deal go down right in front of me, so I decided to turn around, and that McDonald's wouldn't be the worst choice I could make that day.

The ultimate point was, it got me thinking. Sitting on my Bless'd Pillows, covered in the Duvet Sacré that my money belongs in better places. That having been said, I refuse on principle to give money to panhandlers, because I'm afraid it might be feeding a drug habit. The exception to this rule is when I feel physically threatened, and will do it to get out to "safety".

Is this principle, though, or greed? Does it only become principle when I start tithing to charity and trying to make a difference in other ways? Am I a bad person for crossing the street and making my trip longer when I see a panhandler, just so I can avoid having to say no, and feeling guilty? Is my guilt justified? Do I ask too many pointless questions, without offering concrete (if poorly-conceived solutions)? Et cetera.

Oh, and I'm writing this from atop a concrete fence structure outside the National Gallery, overlooking the Peace Tower. Swag. No open wireless in this part of town though. Still friggin' swag.

I'm back.

(Addendum: Wedding bells are ringing. Not mine, though! Nosiree! But there's a huge church right across from the National Gallery. All of a sudden, the bells started ringing, and this huge wedding party just come out and formed immediately into this picture-shaped group, like they'd been praciticing it for months. Remarkable.)

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Ach!

Hi everybody from an Internet café in sunny (yes! sunny!) Oban, Scotland.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity of a lifetime to visit Mull and the Isle of Iona, permanent home of the Iona Community. It was a moving and spiritually profound place, and I hope I'll be able to return someday. Pictures will be uploaded when I can get free or reasonably-priced Internet access at my hotel.

I love it here, and I'm sure I'll return someday.

Talk to you all soon.

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In This Post, I am Lazy

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	High
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	Medium
Pride:	Very Low

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

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Information Overload!

I think this great research paper on The Cure for Information Overload is well worth everyone's serious attention.

If you find yourself with a couple free seconds, it's worth taking a look at.

I'll be trying to post something a bit more substantial this weekend.

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They Must Have Been Republican

Last week, I got to go to Oregon for fun and amusement. And work. The Code4Lib conference at Oregon State University in the sleepy town of Corvallis, population 53,000. It was an excellent conference, and I brought back a lot of neat ideas about:

• improving the catalogue


• pushing services out to users


• the future of the Integrated Library System (and it's not looking good)


• why new standards are good, but new library standards are bad


• why libraries insist on reinventing the wheel (a hard job) when lots of good wheels already exist, and our time would be better spent inventing a bolt that meant we could use existing wheels (an easier job) and taking the newly-found extra time to pay attention to things we've ignored


• beer, and that librarians seem to love it

Lots of people in the library blogosphere (particularly Art Rhyno and Peter Binkley who I happen to read regularly) can talk about these ideas in a way more intelligent way than I can. Maybe when I grow up, I can be like them.

My amusing anecdote comes courtesy of our always delightful and well-armed friends at Customs and Border Protection, a division of the USCIS. They asked me my reason for going to the States, and I explained I was going to a conference for people working in library technology, and I handed them the conference information form.

Code4Lib is a loosely structured camp/conference for library technologists to commune, gather/create/share ideas and software, be inspired, and forge collaborations, said the form. "Loosely structured? Commune?", the gentlemen with the rubber gloves opined. "You can tell this thing is in Corvallis."

Oregon, as you may not be aware is a hotbed of American liberalism, the likes of which is seen in few other states. For example, Oregon is the only state which permits physician-assisted suicide. Said Stephen Colbert, when talking about the odds of the Seattle Seahawks losing the Superbowl (pretty good), it's "not that Seattle doesn't have guts: it's sandwiched dangerously between two Canadas. Canada Canada and Oregon, California's Canada. Now, save your letters, Oregon; I don't read anything written on birch bark." I'm pretty sure they were Republican.

Also, Americans can be dumb. I present to you, faithful readers, for your amusement, The American Fueling Experience.

100% Gasoline. For seriously.

Back with more real opinions and thoughts about stuff soon. :-)

On Mission

Mission is not a small word.

Don't get me wrong. Phonetically, it only has two syllables. In this sense, it is a much smaller word than, say, onomatopoetically, or pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, or even, syllable. These words, tounge-tying as they may be, express not horrifically exciting, or broad, or significant concepts [though you might disagree if you're a fictional coal miner afflicted with pneumonoult...]

Mission is not a small word. A mission can be a journey or a quest, sometimes military, of some significance. A mission statement is a statement of beliefs which one will follow, a credo, a motto, a set of guiding principles. Mission is the name of several places, including towns in British Columbia (in the Fraser Valley, near Abbotsford), South Dakota and Texas.

I live in an area of Kelowna called the Mission. It's an almost exclusively residential area, with reasonably sized (for a city) lots, green space, foliage, beautiful mountain views, schools and not a lot of traffic. The specific area I'm in seems to have been built in the 1970s, and not renovated for modernity's sake since then. As a result, my apartment is in a house with a stucco'd exterior, and the inside is covered with enough dark wood panelling to heat this place for an entire winter.

I've also noticed that, for a city of its size, Kelowna has an inordinate number of churches, a large number of them highly conservative theologically, and extremely evangelical in practice. A result is a truly amazing number of religious schools: Catholic, Lutheran, Pentecostal (the Kelowna "Christian" School, as though the rest of the church-run schools aren't, I suppose), and so on. I wonder if this trend of evangelism has a historical basis in Kelowna's founding. If Kelowna's early years saw developed focused in what is now the downtown, a particularly eager group of Christians, perhaps, set out to take God's message to the (then) more rural, unchurched areas, and thus started the Okanagan Mission. I don't know if that's true, but it seems plausible.

These observations were drawn together by my experience travelling to Kelowna from Nova Scotia; six days in a car travelling across New England, Ontario, the US Midwest, Saskatchewan and Alberta. I was struck by the pervasiveness of radio in the United States.

Let us consider, for example, a typical Canadian conurbation (one of my new favourite words). I'm going to use Pictou County, in Nova Scotia: New Glasgow, Stellarton, Trenton, Westville, and for kicks, the slightly distant Pictou town, total population around 35 000. I could just as easily use the cities of Vernon or Penticton here in British Columbia, which are similar in size. Pictou County has one local radio station, CKEC, and a CBC transmitter. Compare that with Minot, a city of 36 000 in northwestern North Dakota, which has ten radio stations, several of them locally originating, and six of them self-describing as "Christian radio".

This is not something isolated to small Minot. Driving on Interstate highways, far away (for the most part) from large cities, one is exposed to mainly AM radio, which propogates over greater distances. The majority of stations I was able to receive were either Christian radio or conservative talk radio. Sadly, I don't think I heard Air America Radio once. Several of the programs I listened to really disturbed me. One was a program extolling the virtues of (I swear I am not making this up) Christian financial planning.

In one call, the hosts advised a man to quit the part-time job which helped him to support his family. The reason: he was selling beer at the local stadium at sporting events, and this wasn't Christian. Sure, his family might not be able to eat. Sure, he wasn't having any himself. But God has a plan; he'll provide. What absolute "God has a plan for you; it's just not this, because you'll obviously be damned forever, because we think the Bible says so" Calvinist crap. I think. I really need to read more theology. Then I'd know whether it's Calvinist or not.

The other thing that really bothered me was a letter from the mother of a three-year old, who wrote (ostensibly for the three-year old — yes, really) about how she loved witnessing (that's a friendly word for evangelizing) people by handing out Christian-themed pamphlets to people while in a grocery store, because, seriously, who's going to be mean and turn down a three-year old girl? It bothers me because the girl can't possibly understand the Message (capitalized for the evangelicals who are reading) she's sharing. At best, she understands that Jesus was born in a church filled with hay and cows on Christmas Day, and that church is where she goes to play in the Nursery on Sunday.

Coming up next: pictures (I hope!), and a possible crisis of faith.

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"I'm Off to Start Something New..."

Those were the last words I said, in person, to my parents.

When I last wrote, I was just about to go to Saint John for a job interview with the School of Computer Science at the University of New Brunswick, Saint John. They were looking for a Systems Administrator, and apparently they thought I would be an adequate candidate. Shortly thereafter, on my birthday, I was to be skirted away on an aeroplane to Kelowna, British Columbia, for a 48-hour whirlwind tour of Kelowna, British Columbia (24 of those hours spent in the air or at airports) accompanied by a job interview at Okanagan College, where they were looking for a Coordinator, Library Computing Systems.

The short version of the story is that about two weeks later, I was offered the position in Saint John. Suddently, I was faced with the not-small task of deciding whether to:

• stay where I was, with an incredible group of co-workers, a job I enjoyed immensely, and free (if not cozy) accommodations surrounded by people I love (more or less)


• leave my home province, and the world of public libraries to re-enter academia, albeit as a tech monkey, not a member of the grad-student (or even undergraduate) intelligentsia, and replace that now-typical slate of conditions with a list of relative unknowns, in a city where I knew one person (an ex-girlfriend)

No small task, you say.

Indeed.

A week later, after having determined it was necessary to "start something new", I received a call one evening at around 7:30, announcing that I was also being offered the position in Kelowna. A nearly identical situation, except that the job would keep me working in a library setting, though I would now ostensibly be in management (at 24!). Oh, and also, the job would be in Kelowna, British Columbia, some 6000 kilometres from home, where I know nobody, except two taxicab drivers, a checkin guy at the Ramada Lodge Hotel, and a handful of librarians and library paraprofessionals (total interaction time: 3 person-hours).

Resignations were tendered. There were parties and dinners and barbeques and gifts and hugs and tears, and on Monday, September 26, I set off with a packed Toyota and a wallet full of plastic, for Yarmouth and the CAT Ferry, on my journey, across two nations, that would take me into new, unexplored lands, and reunite me one more time with some old friends.

It is now accomplished. I am in Kelowna. I have started my job. I have living room furniture (free!), a dining room table (cheap!), a bed (transported from Coquitlam), and as of this weekend, a mattress (comfy). While I am established here, this is only a "home away from home". I am a Maritimer, born, raised, and educated. I will always be one.

This is only a waypoint on my journey.

I will come home again.

Coming soon (really): how soon I could actually be home.
Coming soon (also): reminiscences of a journey through strange and beautiful lands, as seen through my eyes, a digital camera and (mainly) AM radio.
Coming soon (hopefully): high-speed Internet at home (now T + 10 days without), so I don't have to come into work in the evenings to write here.

Oh! And times here are now in Pacific Time — Daylight Savings or Standard, whatever flavour happens to be the order of the day.

Addendum [the next day]: When I moved back to my old server (had to return the "new" one), ImageMagick moved. Again. So you couldn't comment. Again. At least some things never change.... Thanks to my old colleague J. Adam for pointing the problem out.

Welcome to the New (Old) iHOB

Welcome to what you've been waiting for.

Zut Alors! A new, exciting bilingual name. A new domain name, and the registrars, they are Canadian, like us. No need to panic, though: the same dull, meandering, rarely updated content will keep you company. The fleurs-de-lys and my head (an actual photo of my head) provide the minimally required quantities of Canadian content to keep the CRTC off my back. Though some Péquistes could hunt me down over the fleur-de-lys thing, though. Your thoughts? Too much francophone baiting? Or am I right on the money?

Recently, though, I've found myself asking a question similar to one which comes up in the House of Commons from time to time, namely, "What should we do about The Other Place?" I, of course, am talking about the old Branflakes Dot Net domain. In the Commons, they're referring to Hell The Senate. Should I burn it in effigy? Bury it at sea? Send it a rejection letter? Laud it with gifts?

At one point, I had considered replacing it with a portfolio-style website extolling my awesome glories as a human being and Library Systems Administrator. Then an interesting thing happened. I got a job interview in a far away land, for a position as a Library systems person. It seems my glories are manifested already in my resumé! Who knew? On that note, I'll be spending my birthday at Okanagan College, Kelowna, British Columbia. I promise to have a piece of pie or cake, with a candle, before I fly home overnight that night though.

To reiterate, welcome!
(offscreen stage whisper) To....
To!
(offscreen stage whisper) Zut Alors dot CA...
Something! Dot CA!

Tales from my sordid vacation in the Northeastern corner of the continent will come later this week.

Addendum [August 18]: Sorry, everyone. I forgot that when I moved to the new server, I forgot to install ImageMagick. No wonder no one has commented for the last month. You can now, though.

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Out of Deep, Unordered Water

Well, there's good news, and there's bad news.

I didn't drown. ;-)

Depending on your point of view, it could go either way, really. I sure hope it's mainly taken as good news in these circles. If it's not, I think I'll have to start watching my back a little more.

The flood waters of the raging Petite Rivière and it's feeders, Hebb's and Fancy's Lakes, have receded almost completely to their normal levels. Going out with the record amount of water (220mm of rain, by some counts!) were a period of unseasonably cold temperatures and general misery. Of course, the return of beautiful summer-like heat coincided almost exactly with the day my office, after a week of indoor coat-wearing and gathering around cups of coffee, got our oil tanks refilled after ordering them emptied several days earlier as the waters threatened our building.

Speaking of threatening waters, enjoy my Flood '05 gallery.

I'll be back in not too long to talk about last week's trip to the annual meeting of the Maritime Conference of United Church of Canada, and some thoughts I have coming out of that.

Until then, keep fit, and have fun.

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Portrait of a Quitter

Quitter, thy name is Brandon.

Today I parted ways with the CentreStage production of Sarah, Plain and Tall that I've made such a big deal of in recent weeks. It was quickly becoming obvious to me that I was having serious (insurmountable, even) problems with my lines, and it wasn't going to get better. It really was a fool's exercise to accept the role in the first place — my first role in community theatre: a lead role in a play I've only heard of as a Simpsons reference, taking place in a community far away from where I live, with an incredibly short rehearsal schedule that seemed to conflict with everything I do, and a performance schedule that took my whole summer away.

Why did I say yes? Because I'm that guy who can't say no.

Well, not anymore. This time, I said yes, and then I let other people down in a bad way. And I don't think I can do that again.

I feel like such a crappy person. :-/

On Comedy

Last weekend, I went to Meshuggah-Nuns, playing at CentreStage Theatre, Kentville. A great show, all around, and I would think that even if I wasn't already friends with most of the cast. ;-) It was, in fact, so good, I'm going to see it again this weekend, this time not even as a member of the cast group from my play.

Watching the actors in Meshuggah-Nuns though made me realize something, and that is, comedic acting — that is, serious goofball, totally friggin' nuts comedic acting — is easier than dramatic acting. What I am NOT saying is that comedy is easy to act; it isn't, believe you me.

In my dramatic role in Sarah, Plain and Tall, I'm quickly coming to see how much easier it is to see whether you're being a farce than whether you're being Joe Q. Average. I can do farce convincingly. I'm not sure I've got average down yet.

Desperately Seeking Understudy

"You found a boat for sale?"
"No. It's a man who says he's seeking an understudy."
"Well, why on Earth would you be interested in something like that?"
- from my version of Joseph Robinette's "Sarah, Plain and Tall"

CentreStage Theatre, Kentville, is undertaking a production of the (occasionally musical) drama, Sarah, Plain and Tall. It is based on the book by Patricia MacLachlan, which also spawned a highly respected film version starring Christopher Walken as the Kansas widower Jacob Witting, and Glenn Close as his perspective bride, the Downeaster Sarah Wheaton.

For reasons I don't yet understand – apparently I'm kind, genial and fatherly! – I was approached to take the role of Jacob in the CentreStage production. And for reaons I understand even less, I accepted. the only problem I have now is that I require an understudy. Now the only reason I need one is that I may have to travel for my job (or, more specifically, a new job). If this travel were to coincide with the performace run, that would be a Bad Thing.

The cast is a fun group of people, the story is touching, and it's a experience I'd recommend to you for sure. If you're interested in understudying for me, or know someone who might be, please let me know, so I can get you or them in touch with the play's director.

Hello, CAPTCHA!

Commenters - take note!

I have added a CAPTCHA, or Completely Automated Public Turing test for Telling Computers and Humans Apart. The goal - prevent software-based comment spam by requiring people posting comments to type in a short string from a picture on the web. Since a computer can't "read" the picture, comment span will disappear.

Hopefully, you don't mind too much. Sorry if it's a pain. :-(

A Marathon of a Different Kind

Well, it's been a busy age, really.

Some of you may have noticed a recurring trend in my recent bloggage: a marathon search for a missing pet, a marathon quest through lands foreign and domestic for an exciting opportunity (and just because we could), and now this: a marathon hymn sing.

Of course, by now, many of you have heard of the First (and perhaps, Only) Manning Memorial Chapel Choir Hymnathon, a fundraiser for Pilgrim Song, the Choir's planned performance tour of the England, Scotland and the Inner Hebrides in April, 2006. But, about the Hymnathon.

628 hymns sounded like a whole frig-load of a lot. Oh, and they were. Including our breaks, it took 22 hours and 38 minutes to sing first (and, generally last) verses of all but one of the hymns. And I was there for just over twenty hours of it! I won a gift certificate for being a hardcore fool, and not subjecting people to my piano playing. A good time was had by all, and $3700 (!) was raised toward our final objective.

Many people have asked also how the trip to Brock went, and specifically the interview and job prospect. I did poorly on the practical skills component of the interview, and was not able to successfully compensate with my indelible charm and dashing good looks. I got a call a couple weeks ago telling me I didn't get the job, followed the next day by the job getting readvertised. Oh bother. Guess it just wasn't meant to be.

That having been said, the trip was a great time, and I was very priviledged to enjoy the company of the incredibly friendly, wonderfully patient, and generally wonderful Christine and Jenni, who both accompanied me at the expense of nearly a week of their lives, and their continued mental health. They've both described the duress we underwent far better than I could.

Speaking of things that are meant to be, have any of you, my faithful readers, ever visited, lived in, or known somebody who lived in McAdam, New Brunswick? It seems the winds of change might be trying to push me in that direction. And if they do, I'd like to know what they're pushing me toward. ;-)

Aside from that, Holy Week and Spring both started today, and it's bound to be a busy and beautiful week! Tschuß!

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