2003-02-07 - 10:37 p.m.
So Much for Satisfaction
Ordinarily, when my pager does off, I feel irritation coupled with a certain odd sort of pleasure. Nobody likes to be interrupted in whatever they're doing by a sudden call to go work. At the same time, I find it satisfying. I have to respond to those pages because the work I do can impact internet connectivity for tens of thousands of people. That ain't fate-of-the-world stuff, but it beats my old job, where the worst that could happen was a couple days setback in some professor's publishing schedule.
So anyway, I ordinarily feel that satisfaction, and it provides a consolation prize for all the aggravation.
I also ordinarily like to fly. Airlines could do a much better job of making the experience pleasant, but at the end of the day, you take off, look down on the clouds, cover several hundred miles each hour, and land someplace far from where you took off. It's a rush.
When I'm waiting for a flight in O'Hare, and I get a page telling me that my girlfriend is in the hospital, all those pleasures go out the window.
This week has really sucked.