The highpoint of the week at my current client is the event that has been tagged: “the ice cream frenzy” by a colleague of mine. Several months ago, during an “all hands meeting” to discuss the myriad problems facing the project, one of the solutions suggested, and the only one later implemented, was to have ice cream every week for the project team.

Wednesday became the anointed day, and every Wednesday around 2:15, the ice cream drop off point takes on strange properties, similar to a low-grade black hole. People are slowly drawn to the drop point, and gradually a gauntlet forms where the poor cafeteria lady pushing the ice cream cart must pass.

Around 2:30, the wobble and squeal of a gimpy wheel can be heard heading towards the project area, and the crowd will hush. Those not already milling about the drop point, or formed in the gauntlet take their positions, and any stragglers follow the ice cream cart like so many children following the Pied Piper.

Staring at the hungry eyes of over 200 people with mounting fear, the cafeteria lady generally abandons the ice cream cart well before reaching the official drop point, and runs for her life as the crowds descend. Attempting to grab the best of the assorted ice cream treats, the risk of losing a hand placed too close to the fray is very real. People climb over cubicles, grabbing handfuls of treats for themselves and their colleagues, and mild mannered IT managers and business people turn into salivating wolves.

In less than three minutes, 250+ treats are being shepherded back to cubicles, and those that missed the frenzy are stalking around with forlorn looks, or contemplating whatever stragglers remain on the cart, generally something appetizing like “Broccoli Ice Cream Bar with Brussels Sprout Coating (artificially flavored).” If only Pavlov were around to see the spectacle!

Categories: Work
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In the course of my shameless efforts to promote my fledgling consulting company, Prevoyance Group, an unexpected fringe benefit was an appearance in today’s New York Times. After turning past several shots of the beautiful people in “The Arts,” receiving an award for most wonderful such and such, you’ll come across the smiling mug of yours truly nestled in the Business section.

This of course, is not my first newspaper appearance. I’ve been featured in the internationally-acclaimed Podunk Times for sweeping the 2nd grade diorama competition for my paper mache rendition of a pirate ship, and again for a crushing defeat in the 4th grade pinewood derby.

If you’re looking for the post mentioned in the article about the very effective method of keeping track of days based on dry cleaning, it can be found here. Or, one of my favorite travel-related short stories can be found here. For those of you stopping by for the first time, enjoy. Be on the lookout as perhaps I’ll have to dust off the paper mache again for my next newspaper appearance!

Categories: General
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My current home away from home, the Sheraton Long Island located in world famous Hauppauge, NY (no, I don’t know how to pronounce it either) has once again ruffled the feathers of my comrades and I. Despite a relatively modern and attractive lobby, complete with bubbling fountain and a full compliment of bubbly concoctions at the lobby bar, the rooms have always been less than stellar.

After staying at a hotel for over six months, you get a good sense of the nuances between rooms. There are a series of rooms named after past presidents, with no particular relation that I can discern, that include a spiral staircase and “lounge” on the lower floor. Despite thinking that a spiral staircase and/or automatic freezer icemaker were sure signs of unimaginable wealth during my youth, the rickety spiral proves more of an inconvenience than anything else. The squeaks and buckles made by the staircase as overweight businessmen mount it’s spiraled wonder are heard for a four room radius on any side, and the risk of disability incurred by a fall after a nightcap are very real.

The general 1970’s decor of the rooms is also complimented by the patented “smoke funk” odor: stale cigarettes from past life as smoking rooms, combined with noxious chemical smells designed to mask the smell of smoke. There are a few rooms with fireplaces which seemed like a nice benefit, until the small plague next to the gas switch informs the guest that the “Fire Marshall of Hauppauge” has disallowed their use and disabled the system.

Despite the lackluster rooms, a reasonable rate and the siren’s song of Starwood Points, good for free vacations at wife-approved venues around the world kept myself and a band of merry men on the frequent guest list. The New Year brought the shutdown of the club lounge, an evening refuge for the aforementioned overweight businessmen to have a cocktail, pig in a blanket and catch Jeopardy. It also marked a 13% increase in our rate. For a 20% decrease in service, we were being asked to pay an additional 13%.

To enrage a business traveler, especially one that is self-employed, take away his or her frequent flyer status, or increase their rates for any of the services they use. The “Revenue Manager” at the hotel received several calls and visits from “interested parties” regarding the new rate. Her qualms about appeasing shareholders were met with stern faces, especially since my “shareholders” sit across from me at the dinner table!

Categories: Travel, Work
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