doubting thom

6:25 p.m., Thursday, January 29. I’m just about to leave the garage at my condo to go pick Jeff up at the Metro. The garage doors open and a red car–is that a Prius?–drives in. I circle around and see that it is, and it’s pulling into the parking space of my ex and still good friend Jay, who owns a condo in the same building. I drive up behind the car as he’s getting out; the sales sticker is still pasted to the passenger-side window. I roll down the window. “You didn’t…” “Yep.” He did.

I knew Jay was planning to get a Prius. After all, just three weeks ago he stopped by my condo to pick my brains about the car and the local Toyota dealers I’d considered. He has a long commute to work, and like my boss wants the advantage of being able to drive in the HOV lanes. A week later–just two weeks ago–he told me that he’d put in his order.

So what happened? Here I was just last night making a minor rant about the Toyota corporation, concerning the waiting time for the Prius–three months and counting for me–but at the same time defending Toyota dealers in a separate comment. Well less than 24 hours later, though, a friend pulls up with a new Prius after having ordered one only two weeks ago. Turns out that while I’ve been waiting for my dealer to get back to me when they get to my name on the list, Jay’s been actively calling all the dealers in the area; today he reached one that had just received a new Prius that the person who ordered decided not to take. So they sold it to Jay; apparently they didn’t contact the next person on their waiting list, but sold it to someone who just happened to call them and ask for it.

Now, it wasn’t my dealer, but I was still pretty pissed. Not at Jay, though he thought I would be–it’s not his fault that some dealerships don’t play fair, and I’m happy that he benefitted from it. And it also wasn’t the option package I wanted anyway, but rather the more limited package I was told in November I could probably get within a couple of weeks. So maybe there really wasn’t anyone else waiting for a Prius who wanted this one. But I did have a strong visceral reaction, at first almost angry enough to call and cancel my own order. But really I wouldn’t send any kind of message to Toyota, or hurt anyone but myself by doing that; there are plenty of people waiting who would snap up my car when it finally arrives. I have sent an email to my dealer, though, asking what their own policy is for distributing cars when the person who ordered it decides not to take delivery.

The most shameful truth, though, is that part of the reason I was upset was that I had made the decision first, months ago, and Jay only recently decided to buy a Prius. And yet now everyone will see mine showing up in a month or two and think that I was a copycat. Yes, it’s not an adult reaction. No, I don’t really care what the other people think and, frankly, I bet no one will even give it a thought. But it still went through my mind. I wanted to be special with my car, at least for a couple of months. I think Gene would understand.

Earlier this week I received the latest annual assessment on my condo from Arlington County. Whoa! My assessment went up by 27 percent from last year, which itself was an increase of 20 percent over the previous year; in Arlington County, condo values have increased at a higher rate the past two years than have single family homes [update: single family homes increased by an average of 17 percent]. Granted, I benefitted from the significantly higher appraisal when I refinanced last fall, but I’m dreading my tax bill later this year.

I bought my condo in 1997. By 1999 the assessment had fallen 7 percent, but in 2000 had increased to just shy of the 1997 assessment. In the Arlington housing boom since then, however, the value has dramatically shot up to an assessed value 83% higher than the 1997 value. And on the market the condos in my building are going for even higher than the County assessments. I’ve had cold calls from realtors with interested buyers for my unit; of course, if I sold it I’d just have to pay the same premium to buy anything new, so the increase in value is only theoretical, while the additional tax expense is real.

I’m just really lucky I bought when I did. With federal salaries increasing only by low single-digit percentages each year, while home prices are rising 20 to 25 percent annually or even more, I wouldn’t easily be able to afford my modest 1,300-square-foot condo now.

Earlier this evening in a climactic battle aboard the Star Forge I defeated the Dark Lord of the Sith, won the heart of the girl (eh, whatever; I still wish there had been an option to pursue Carth instead of Bastila, but I guess that’s why it’s called a roleplaying game), and saved the galaxy as the most powerful servant of the Light the Jedi Council had ever seen.

After about 40 hours of gameplay over the past two weeks (wow, practically a part-time job), I’ve finished Star Wars “Knights of the Old Republic.” Wow… and fortunately Jeff hasn’t left me in the interim.

Last November, I noted that my television was showing signs of failure, and might need to be replaced. Recently the signs have been mounting. For probably close to a year, the set might work fine for a few days, then out of the blue I can turn it on to find the picture distorted; this can last a few hours or a few days, and then the screen reverts to normal.

Over the past few weeks, though, there have been some new behaviors. Occasionally, in the middle of watching a program the picture will just vanish. Usually when this happens, just turning the set off and back on will bring the video back.

And last night, about halfway through Sunday’s TiVoed episode of Sex and the City, Sarah Jessica Parker suddenly started to flouresce in a kaleidoscope of colors. After a few moments of wild color oscillations–though oddly mostly just in the flesh tone range–like some sort of cool media player visualization, the video desaturated leaving us with only a grayscale image. Briefly disoriented, I imagined Carrie and Aleksandr leaving Manhattan for Pleasantville.

Turning the set off and on again resolved this issue as well, at least for the nonce. But it probably really is time for the boyfriend and me to start shopping for a new set.

It’s beginning to feel like everywhere I turn, I see or hear advertisements for your exciting and innovative new Prius. What I want to know is why you’re spending so much money advertising this car when you can’t even make enough of them for those of us who already have placed orders, and your local dealers are now suggesting that the wait for new orders could be as much as six to eight months?

Mightn’t you put that money to better use by spending it on an extra shift at the factory, or building another?

OPM finally has decided to dismiss Washington-area federal employees three hours early today, just in time for the new round of freezing rain, sleet and snow expected this afternoon and evening. Actually, the OPM web site has yet to update the official operating status [update: it has since been updated], though we’ve gotten word from within the Department; the Washington Post and other local media, as well, have been reporting the early dismissal for nearly the last hour, meaning that most of that time the contractors have been sitting around surfing and constantly reloading the OPM page, or coming up here to ask me, such that little work probably has been done (to be fair, it was lunch time for many of them).

So that means I’ll officially be off work at 2:15, though I’ll likely stick around a bit. Jeff’s office is closing at 3, but he’ll then have to take the Metro with all the other tens of thousands of commuters let go at the same time, so it may be a lengthier commute for him than usual; rather than picking him up at the usual time, I just told him to give me a call from the mall when he gets there and I’ll come pick him up at that point (the Pentagon City mall is only about a mile and a half away from the condo).

My friends David Levine and Kate Yule live in Portland, Oregon. I met David and Kate back in the mid-90s through our mutual hobby of squaredancing. The couple also publish a wonderful, occasional ‘zine, Bento (some issues of which are available online).

David is an award-winning, up-and-coming science-fiction writer, nominated last year for the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. His incredibly beautiful and emotionally stirring (I cried) short story “The Tale of the Golden Eagle” has been nominated this year for a Nebula. For a limited time, this wonderful story is available for free on The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction web site. Go read it.

Sandia Laboratories has decided that we need computers that monitor and tell us how we’re feeling; even scarier, they believe that our computers should snitch on us, telling our colleagues and supervisors how we’re feeling and how those feelings might impact our work.

That computer on your desk is just your helper. But soon it may become a very close friend.

Now it sends your e-mails, links you to the Web, does your computations, and pays your bills.

Soon it could warn you when you’re talking too much at a meeting, if scientists at Sandia National Laboratories’ Advanced Concepts Group have their way.

Or it could alert others in your group to be attentive when you have something important to say.

Aided by tiny sensors and transmitters called a PAL (Personal Assistance Link) your machine (with your permission) will become an anthroscope–an investigator of your up-to-the-moment vital signs, says Sandia project manager Peter Merkle. It will monitor your perspiration and heartbeat, read your facial expressions and head motions, analyze your voice tones, and correlate these to keep you informed with a running account of how you are feeling–something you may be ignoring–instead of waiting passively for your factual questions. It also will transmit this information to others in your group so that everyone can work together more effectively.

Just what I need. A tattletale computer that tells my boss and co-workers what I’m really thinking. Believe me, no one needed a Personal Assistance Link this morning to know that I was this close to quitting.

Those concerned about privacy–who see this as an incursion similar to HAL’s, the supercomputer that took over the spaceship in the movie 2001–can always opt out, he says, just like people choose not to respond to emails or decline to attend meetings.

Really? How many people are able to opt-out of email and meetings on a regular ongoing basis, and still keep their jobs or any promotion potential?

I’m actually fine with the idea that my computer might pass information to me about my apparent mental, emotional and physical states, but I’m extremely uncomfortable with this kind of data being made available to my employer. Beyond just the potential for misinterpreting the data, there seems to be real potential for Big Brotherly misuse; what if my company decides, for example, that my stress levels are consistently high and deems me an unacceptable insurance risk? What business is it of my boss if my pulse races, my respiration increases, and there’s a rise in my, um, brain activity when I’m meeting with the cute guy on my team?

Well, it was about the worst possible outcome for me personally. All the local schools are closed. The federal government, however, rather than closing has opened with “unscheduled leave,” which means that you’re supposed to come to work but if you don’t think you can make it you can take leave without having it pre-approved. When the schools are closed, though, many of my co-workers who are parents end up staying home, and I end up often being one of a skeleton crew here.

At 6:00 this morning, one of my staff called me at home to tell me she couldn’t come in. She called back around 7:15 to say that she’d talked to the lab manager, who also wouldn’t be able to come in. So I had to throw on some clothes and rush in to work to open the labs–the executive director gets upset if they’re not open precisely on time at 7:30–and then go back home to shave, change into my suit and take Jeff to the metro before coming back to the office.

I’m back, and the deluge of calls from co-workers saying they won’t be coming in has finally subsided. What makes it even worse today than the fact that practically everyone has called in to say that they’re not coming is that there’s a big event scheduled here this morning with the assistant secretary and some Hill staff. My boss and I have to do a tour and lab demonstration for them, but since none of the lab staff are here I now have to do all the setup and preparation alone, handle any customer issues all day, as well as staff the phones in the main office since neither of our administrative assistants showed up and my peers always conveniently manage to find reasons to be out of the office when that happens, rarely taking their turn on the phones. My boss–who is willing to take a turn on the phones–did arrive, so at least I don’t have to do the tour on my own.

And the Washington Post headline at the moment is “Storm Blankets D.C. Area, But Worst Yet to Come,” noting that while the snow is mostly over there will be ice and sleet falling throughout the day, continuing to make the roads slick and dangerous. I saw several cars in ditches already–before the icing had begun–just on the mile from my condo to the office, and that was on two main roads.

So your tax dollars are at work; at least, the portion you pay for my salary is.

It’s snowing; in fact, there’s already a noticeable accumulation on the ground. The forecast is for a winter storm warning with a total of between 4 and 8 inches. The worst of it is projected before midnight, then tapering off until around 7am. Too soon to tell, then, if the government might close tomorrow, giving me another nice long weekend.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed.