I had this big meeting scheduled with my Red Menace boss today. I was hoping, of course, that I’d be laid off. The signs were right; we’ve just been re-orged again and my suspicion is (was) that my information security manager role would become redundant in the new org. The other part of my job does not thrill me and I’ve made no secret of my dissatisfaction with it. I’ve been addressing those tasks s-l-o-w-l-y, not in any kind of intentional way, but just because the work sucks. It’s bug fixing in this horridly-complex ‘C’ code dealing with hash tables in an NFS server cache. As an architect, I don’t do a lot of bug fixing but I got saddled with this since no one else can understand it. Looking at the code makes my eyes roll back in my head. So, after several months, I’ve managed to get to the point that I can very possibly reassign the bug to someone else in a different division in the company. Yea, me, but it’s taken forever. On top of my s-l-o-w performance on this stuff, my boss and I have had a tense discussion of what I think about my compensation lately, and I’ve made no secret that I’m disengaged, demoralised, and damaged goods. So then my boss schedules this big meeting. Hooray, I think. Here comes the pink slip. My boss calls me fifteen minutes early to reschedule; we’ll have the meeting when he gets back from vacation. But he wants to tell me about my annnual option grant before he left. Option grant! Criminy. So I guess I’m not getting laid off. Options are relatively useless anymore in terms of real value, but it’s the principle of the thing.
John, Eve, Ani, and Celia arrived last night. John and I stayed up too late.