A Question

Most assistants on my floor have two monitors on their desk. This provides enough screen space to have email and messaging programs always up as well as rotating spreadsheets, text documents, PowerPoint presentations, etc as needed.

The recently hired senior administrative assistant (she supports half the management team) had a third monitor added to her setup shortly after arrival. I pass her desk multiple times per day on my way to get water and she has always had the right-most monitor displaying a picture of an infant I assume is her child. I'm sure the bank purchases monitors by the thousands and we made $1.5 billion in profit last quarter, so if she wants a $500 electronic picture frame it's no big deal.

I only mention this for two reasons:
1) In the last week or so she's started using both the middle and right monitor to display pictures of the child. She changes the picture at least a couple of times per day.
2) The child is unattractive. I'm no baby snob who only sees virtue in his own offspring. Almost all babies are cute; many are adorable. This is really not a pretty child.

Anyway...my question is this: At what point do you think she will begin using a pen and paper for all her work so she can devote a full 51" of screen space to baby pictures?

Hobo Envy

In December I alluded to forthcoming commentary on hobos. Today that promise is fulfilled....

It finally happened. This morning I got the hobo envy.

(If for some reason you are not aware of this condition, you are probably also unaware of the important rocky road theory of life. For this I pity you and will provide some enlightenment about hobo envy. Because I'm generous like that.)

Due to my intense dislike of early mornings and the cold, for some months of the year the walk between Grand Central and my office is physically painful. It's beyond the normal frustration and fatigue of walking through Manhattan when sensible people are still horizontal. During that walk on particularly cold mornings, I sometimes begin to fantasize about escape: Maybe if I took a flight to Mexico I could sleep in the sun on the beach for a few hours before anyone noticed I was missing. Sadly, a gust of bitter wind usually jolts me back to reality.

A few years ago I realized the depth of my longing for escape from the cold and exhaustion on those mornings when I was literally envious of a homeless person sleeping in a box on the sidewalk. Please don't think I am exaggerating even slightly. As I passed his cardboard condo I realized that at that moment I would happily change places with him. How carefree his hobo existence must be. No LBO analysis, no alarm clock, nothing but peaceful dreams of riding the rails deepened by the exhaust fumes of a hundred passing delivery trucks. This is hobo envy.

The real issue is, would he trade places with me? One of us has nine square feet of personal space, a cacophony of voices surrounding him for twelve hours a day, bad food hastily consumed, and irrational people shouting obscenities and making pointless demands. Then there's the hobo, happily asleep in his box.

If I were him, I wouldn’t trade either.

Better Off Dead?

For Christmas, Denise gave me one of these:



I assume she was not aware of the complicated and dangerous rules associated with new editions of Trivial Pursuit.