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Slapsie Maxie

I LOVE MY JOB/I HATE MY JOB

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This week I hate my job, thanks to that snot-nosed little bitch Amanda Hesser, and I don't care who reads this. Criticism is one thing; hatchet jobs that threaten people's livelihoods are quite another.

 

On the other hand, how many jobs provide an opportunity to tell the boss, "I'm off to drink bourbon for an hour"?

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I hate reviewing grant applications. The applicants are so desperate to make the application criticism-proof that they provide far too much trivial experimental detail, inevitably losing sight of the point of what they're proposing to do. Reading these things is like wading through quicksand. Then I have to evaluate the proposal on the basis of opaque NIH criteria and provide a helpful critique. (They frown on "This proposal is stupid and so are the applicants.")

 

I had to do four of these things last week. This week it's only one. But it's 4,000 pages long.

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This week I hate my job, thanks to that snot-nosed little bitch Amanda Hesser, and I don't care who reads this. Criticism is one thing; hatchet jobs that threaten people's livelihoods are quite another.

 

On the other hand, how many jobs provide an opportunity to tell the boss, "I'm off to drink bourbon for an hour"?

I love it when you talk dirty. :wub:

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I love my job because I love the subject of my work and because I make my own schedule, and because it provides a good living and because Mazal and I do it together.

 

I hate my job when a client assumes his expertise at his own job is tranferable to my field. I hate it even worse when a client assumes that, because it's the art business, he will somehow automatically be cheated. ("Screwed with my pants on" is how one put it a long time ago.)

 

I don't mind when someone fails to recognize the quality of the work I've done. I recognize it.

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One of the things that I like about my job is that I get the chance to work with some very clever people. No, make that Very Clever People. I’ve just started collaborating with a chap who helped his brother build one the world’s most powerful supercomputers, in his apartment, where they used it to calculate pi to over two billion decimal places.

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In the hopes of finding a pattern. After you've solved Hilbert's tenth problem (determination of the solvability of a Diophantine equation) at the age of seventeen, you've got to find something to do for the rest of your life.

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Geat article on the brothers.very interesting !

 

3.14159265358979 is about all i remmber from school days, don't ask me why i memorised pi to 14 places but i did and its stuck in my head ever since :D

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That article made my evening yesterday, until it started delving too deeply in the pi thing for my limited attention span. Beautifully written.

 

Lucky you, Glyn.

 

v

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