You Don't Know Me

Now that I've been in my new job for a month, I've had a bit of time to get to know my new co-workers. We spend 10 hours a day in the same office. You'd think that would allow us all to be fast friends in no time. But really I'm still a bit isolated. Partially because of where my desk is, down the hall from the room where most of my fellow writers sit. And also because it's one of those open receptionist-type desks, so people are walking by me all day, and to avoid being constantly distracted I sit with my earphones in for hours at a time.

Proximity aside, do we ever really know our co-workers? Or anyone for that matter. Or even ourselves? These are not new questions of course. But aside from starting a new job, I'm reminded often of how little I do know the people around me. Even ones I've felt so close to at times. My friend Keir, who I met at one of my previous jobs and saw almost every day for about 2 years, was the closest I had to a best friend since I moved here to Vegas. We did a lot of stuff outside work, spend many hours, even whole nights, talking after a night out. He told me stuff, I told him stuff. I heard his favourite stories so many times that when he'd be telling one to someone else, at lunch for instance, I could've picked it up and finished it for him word for word. I practically knew all his old friends who I'd never met because he'd told me so much about them.

Then that one night, he was lying next to me here, the one time he was here, and he said, "So, what do you really know about me?" I stammered ..."Well, I know that you're a good person, that you're just very frustrated with your situation right now, and you feel some anger about things, but ..."
He stopped me there. We were both silent. What did I really know about him? And what did he know about me other than that we'd just been out for my birthday and now we were in my bed. And in the morning he would be gone.

Then a few months later, I did meet those old friends of his and there was that light of recognition, "Oh, you're the one who..." and "He's the one who..." and I was just there, "the one he's been hanging out with all this time," since they'd last seen him.

And I still see them, his friends that is (I haven't seen him in a while, and I suppose neither have they). And I'm just sort of floating awkwardly, isolated. Do I belong now? Can I belong? Will they ever know me? Do they care to? I mean, he had the chance, and he didn't stick around. So why would they?

Then there is Skip. My dear lovely delightful Skip, who I've never met, but I thought I knew so well. As well as possible, when he keeps one at arms length, I suppose. Yes, he's never really let any of us in. All those details that anyone who lives on his street might know, like his name, what he looks like; those aren't the really important things anyway. It's what's inside. His good heart. His funny, clever, and frustratingly mysterious Maskipper-ness. He was as much of a best friend to me as I had for many years. He was the one I wanted to tell everything to. And did. And still do, though I don't hear back from him nearly as often. Hmm. Maybe no one ever really wants to know anyone too well. Maybe the bits we hold back are what keep us close.

It can be an advantage to be the new guy or gal. The one from whom no one quite knows what to expect. And then there's the truth, which usually isn't amazing or mysterious. So we hold on to it, keep it even from those closest to us, our family. Because once someone knows all, there's no going back is there? That's why we each need to have our own space. For me, it's so I can just be, without having someone looking at me trying to see what they know or think they know.

And yet, it's still there, that need to know and be known. The comfort of not having to explain yourself all the time remains appealing. Instead, in nearly any situation, you can just shrug your shoulders as if to say, "well, you know me ..."

Fix You

This weekend I took my car in to the shop to have some work done on her suspension. She's been needing her front control arm bushings replaced for about a year, and it's just now that I've had the money to get it done. Turned out other bits of her suspension had been wearing out too, the right side motor mount and torque mounts had to be replaced. I also needed new rear brake pads since my sensor light had been on for about 6 weeks. I still have a few minor things to take care of, like the automatic lock in the driver's side door, and strangely, the third brake light mounted on the back hatch has actually disappeared! No one can figure it out yet. It was just suddenly not there when I got home from work Thursday night.

As much as I love my car, it's always a cringe-worthy moment when you learn how much these repairs will cost. Fortunately I have a reputable shop with great mechanics who specialize in British cars. They take good care of MINIfir and are up front about which repairs are essential and which things can wait until I have some more money coming in. Unlike the dealership, they don't act like if I wait to get something done, my wheels will fly off or something.

Now that I've taken care of the big stuff, I feel much better, and I'm sure MINIfir does too. I've got a plan, once I've taken care of the other minor issues, to accelerate my payments and get my loan payed off as quickly as possible. Then MINIfir will be mine free and clear. True, she'll be 6 years old by then, and she'll still be needing regular repairs and maintenance as she ages, but I will feel so proud that I bought her, ordered from the dealer, and have cared for and fed her, and paid her off little by little, and finally will really be her owner.

I can't explain what it means. But she is the best and biggest, most expensive and most important thing I own. And I love her. So when she's broken I fix her. And she fixes me in return.

Mr. (Tech) Writer

I've been asked more than once: How did you get into tech writing? And the answer is always "by accident." And it's true, I remembering hearing about such a thing as technical writing classes at BYU where I was completing my Master's in Creative Writing. The two could not be more different. What could one possibly have to do with the other? Why would I ever need or want to know about tech writing?

As it turns out, that's how I make my living. It has been for the better part of 5 years now. Well, in between layoffs and whatnot. But basically I fell into it when I first moved to Vegas, and my mom suggested I visit the local JobConnect office, and the nice lady there called me and said, "Well with your writing skills you might be interested in this job with Red, inc." It was for tech editing, and an easy editing test later, I had a job that paid way more than I ever thought I'd make. Teaching pays a pittance in comparison. Teaching was what I'd been doing since grad school, and I enjoyed it, but without a PhD. it'd pretty much never be a steady gig. I got one night class assignment at Nevada State College, but most of my employment was to be found in the tech writing sector. My first job, as an editor on the Yucca Mountain Project was pretty easy. I didn't do any writing there though. Just proofing, and checking references and style guide compliance. After a few months, I was shuffled off to other projects which could only be referred to as busy work. Sorting old emails, things like that. I was still getting paid the same though, so I didn't mind it. And then the first layoff came. I found that the life of a tech writer is not so much easier than the life of a novelist or essayist or journalist. Moving from gig to gig. Working as a contractor or a subcontractor, with no benefits and no security.

After a few more short term assignments, and a brief job in journalism (which I loved and was devastated to get layed off from), I landed at Upper Deck as a technical writer. To be honest, I had never really done any technical writing until I got there. I had to start from scratch with most of the documentation. And I had to do it all by myself. It was a challenge, but I found I could shape the job to suit me. I liked the company and my co-workers, and settled into my role. I created a bunch of different types of documents, policy and procedures, work instructions, etc. I joined STC, and tried to learn more about my accidental profession. And though the work was hardly the most interesting, it was diverse, and I had room to work on other things. I founded a company newsletter. I was enlisted for the communications committee, and I did my best to talk to folks who worked in all the different departments. I was in a unique position of being able to bridge the two sides (office and warehouse). I took internal communications really seriously and tried to help everyone have a voice.

And then suddenly, after two years, I didn't have one. My position was eliminated. It seemed what I was doing wasn't so important to the bottom line, so all the other value it had was secondary. I never saw it coming. And it knocked me for a loop.

I landed on my feet pretty quickly, finding a job writing business plans. It didn't end up being a good fit, and business slowed enough that I could anticipate it coming to an end quickly. The economy was collapsing in all sectors. Layoffs were rampant, but I felt that my options were open. I was versatile, I could go back into teaching, or try journalism, perhaps in the online environment which is where it's at these days. But since I'd only dipped my toe in the various areas, I didn't have the depth required to compete against all the other out of work professionals in those fields.

I searched for six months, had a few interviews and then finally landed back in technical writing. This job, with another government contractor, may be temporary too. I'm in a 6 month casual appointment. But there's a chance it could become a permanent hire situation. And it's really technical. More so than what I was doing at Upper Deck. So now I must really become what I've been flirting with all this time. Not to mention the fact that somehow I've been elected president of my STC chapter.

Obviously I'm really grateful to have this job. The people all seem really nice, and I'm glad to be on a team again. I just hope that after all the bits and pieces of jobs that I've done, I've at least accumulated "enough education to perform." And that one day I'll feel like a like an actual professional tech writer. And then whatever other writing I can do on the side will be a bonus. I want to stay versatile, because you never know about work these days. No one is secure. And I'm finally getting used to that.