I took a bus down to the Mission District tonight for dinner. I had never taken the 49 before, so I was surprised to meet a mob containing every flavor of hipster on that bus.
The top of the route is in The Marina. It travels down to 4th & Market, and dumps the bulk of it’s mephitic load in the Mission. It’s a trifecta of consumable cool, a perfect storm of morbid vanity.
A more eloquent account of this loathsome non-culture to be found here.
A roadie or a physics student might parse the circumstances based upon four factors: a light bike, heavy backpack, 10 percent grade, front brake.
To put it more directly: I took a pretty spectacular spill on my bike.
I am really surprised that I was not badly hurt, though everything did hurt for a good while later. Ironically, the same oversized rucksack that contributed extra inertia to my 9 point vault over the handlebars had also made my silhouette irregular enough to prevent me from rolling more than a few revolutions down the ludicrously steep pavement.
No other factors were in play: just me, gravity, and the left brake. There I lay like a flipped turtle in the middle of empty Chestnut Street, San Fransisco, between Larkin and Polk in the wee hours of the morning.
And in this state, I had the silly recollection of Pauli Shore trying to milk a cow, which promptly dumped bowel and bladder on his head.
“Oops,” he muses wearily, “Wrong button.”
It seems the Caltrain gets more first-timer bicycle commuters every day. I’m still learning myself, and see that cycling to work has pitfalls that are not so obvious. I gleaned from this experience some valuable lessons about handling descents under load, which I offer to you fledging commuters:
Consider investing in a sturdy rear rack and sensible panniers. You can expect this installation to cost no less than $100. A low center of gravity will make your bike handling less nimble, but much more forgiving. Things to avoid are panniers that will smack against your heel as you pedal. It’s really distracting, and will negatively impact the effectiveness of your stroke. Bonus- no more sweaty back or upper body tension.
Understand that the front brake has significantly more stopping power than the back brake. When you lock the front wheel, it acts as a pivot point, and inertia carries the vehicle around it. Stunt drivers use the same principle swing through tight corners at high speed. When cycling down a hill, the bike will simply pivot vertically – right over your head. Internalize which brake lever belong to which wheel, and apply brakes evenly to control speed when going down hills. It’s also important to adjust your speed before beginning to turn, because your contact with the road is a great deal less when the bike is tilted. Ride within your ability.
Don’t take chances when there is cross traffic. Stop. every. time. If I had a nickel for every time I kept pace with a stop sign coaster, I could buy a custom plate saying, “I stop at intersections, and you got passed!”. You probably wouldn’t shave any appreciable time off your commute, and it makes every cyclist look bad. If you want a speedy commute, just ride faster. It’s good for you.
To help keep your back wheel on the ground, you should adjust your riding position to the rear when careening down declines. Stand up and lean back until your elbows are almost straight. If you are turning through a curve, keep a habit of raising the inside pedal to the twelve o’clock position. This will keep the pedal from hitting the ground as the bike leans into the turn. Failure to do so may damage the crank or pop the back wheel off the ground, which naturally negates any further attempt at handling.
I hope you benefit from my silliness. Be careful out there, and enjoy the ride.
I went to Bay Area Gaming Studio this morning to sign my offer letter and complete other paperwork. Same as the day of my interview, I waited in a lobby with a couple other anxious people, no longer candidates but new hires. Another immaculate HR person hands us each a thick packet of documents, to be read and signed at our leisure, and guides us through the secure parts of the building in a notably less circuitous path.
I am lead to the place I was to work. About a dozen people are already there, interacting with two long rows of LAN connected computer stations. It’s a multiplayer lab.
I recognized one of the men who interviewed me. He had traded his bright shirt for a wool cap against the palpable chill in the room. Lots of running hardware in here – makes sense. There are vents in the floor among the ubiquitous cables.
I was greeted warmly and invited to sit at a station with the other testers. I settled into the game, some kind of third-person shooter. Though I’d grown up watching my step-father play at these kinds of games, I had never tried to play one myself. I’ve typically preferred something more relaxed and thoughtful, and DOOM scared the hell out of me.
The other testers were very, very good at this game. I tried to check my frustration over being unable to find the gun caches, negotiate the maps, or dodge snipers. I didn’t understand the team game objectives.
Lunch was served two hours later, and my initial enthusiasm of the morning had turned soggy. How am I supposed to push the game capabilities past the breaking point when I could barely strafe? Why did my first project have to be a shooter?!
The lab testers were friendly, took me in right away. As we walked together to the dining commons, they pointed out a long table to go back to when I had gotten my lunch. Between rich cheeseburgers and friendly words, I felt much better.
We go back to the lab, and I felt determined to develop fighting skill. I eventually found a shotgun, and to my surprise, discovered an aptitude for it. The testers had explained the game rules to me over lunch, and I elected to guard choke points in my team’s territory, which suited the shotgun’s deadly yet limited range. I racked 14 kills in the first match of the afternoon!
The day was over before I knew it, not just because I was finally having fun, but also because the lab room is not unlike a casino – no windows and no clocks. Knowing the time demands soon to be asked of me, I can see how this setup is beneficial. It’s easier to work 12-14 hours when you don’t see the time pass.
I was reminded around 6pm to catch my train, that was the last time I left work before dinnertime.
Additionally, interviewers: I don’t see the advantage of putting the spotlight on your candidate’s major flaws:
What if an 18th century Marshall of France looked at a Corsican cadet’s diminutive stature and said, “Je suis desolé, Napoleon, but you just don’t command the presence of an officer.”
Benjamin Franklin was reported to be a robust and handsome youth. He lived half his life in poor health because he made bad lifestyle choices of which he was perfectly aware were unhealthful.
We all have these kind of glaring faults and vices, but we shouldn’t be judged by them on the short term. In the little time they have, it’s probably more viable to allow your candidates to showcase their mitigating strengths.
Imperfections are perfectly common, but well-adjusted people don’t enter solemn commitments with others because they chiefly lack any one of a laundry list of undesirable qualities. Instead, they seek out and come to rely upon specific important qualities, which also serve as the saving grace in the face of numerous lesser sins.
I invite all interviewers to convey their thoughts. Do you use or avoid this question? I’m not going to try to tear you down if you happen to keep this curveball in your arsenal. However, I do enjoy a good argument.
I’ve been thinking a lot about interviews lately, and inevitably about classic questions.
It’s pretty presumptuous to ask a stranger about their great weaknesses. I’d just as rather brush the question aside with a curt and innocuous response. Here are Jig’s Top 10 ways to curtail this annoying question.
10. I’m terrified of bugs. Arthropods, that is.
9. I can’t swim.
8. Drink too much coffee.
7. I have a hard time saying no.
6. My mini golf handicap.
5. I forget people’s birthdays and anniversaries.
4. I’ve got to die sometime.
3. I’m pretty stubborn.
2. I’m a pretty terrible cook/dancer.
1. Kryptonite
I stumbled upon a brilliant muffin recipe at Tiny Vegan Kitchen.
UPDATE – You must, and I mean absolutely must watch this batch in the oven. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t go to the toilet, check the mailbox, or play Tomb Raider with the egg timer widget ticking on your laptop. Because this recipe employs such paltry amounts of fat, the time between “done” and “smoke alarms” is less than a minute. Believe me, I know. You’ve been warned!
It’s of wholesome composition and a surprisingly palatable texture. I’d like to make a batch of smaller galettes to take on the bike.
The Wet Stuff:
The Dry Stuff:
Preheat oven to 360° F.
Blend the wet stuff and the dry stuff in separate vessels, then mixed them together to make a thick batter.
You can bake it in a greased or lined muffin tin, or drop the batter by the spoonful on a shallow pan for scone-shaped bread. I’ve never tried to bake a loaf, because my gut tells me the recipe is not designed for it. You should bake for 8-12 minutes, and watch carefully for browning.
I suppose chewing scalding hot bread is a matter of preference, but I believe the flavor and texture both benefit from a thorough cooling.
You can substitute white flour. The texture will not be as dense, but it’s not as nutritious as whole flour. This is an awesome breakfast food, and the energy kept me going strong all morning. I’m going to try adding chopped walnuts in later batches.
HR called me back: I have an offer! Bay Area Gaming Studio thinks I’m a promising game tester, apparently. Yay for me!
I’m on the train bound for Prism Enterprise. I get to tell the guys there that I made the cut.
I have never felt excited about an interview before. To prepare, I sought advice from several engineering friends, and selected an interesting outfit: my vintage silk happi over a summer dress and my Daria boots. A little class, a little hip, a little edgy, but no skin. No stupid man-trousers for me – heavens no.
I got off the train and took a 5 mile ($20!) cab ride to a stately office park. Waiting in the lobby, I met two comparably classy/hip/edgy guys who were incidentally waiting for the same appointment. A group interview – how interesting.
I’ve never done a group interview before, but the situation instantly made sense. I was arranged to be interviewed by four department leads. It was silly of me to assume they were all there to see moi-même seulement.
But at the same time, I felt anxious. While cramming for classic interview questions, I had read horror stories about how interviewers have set up grouped candidates for an impromptu smear campaign against each other (cue Star Trek dueling music).
A white-toothed HR representative whisked us along a circuitous path of elevators and bare cubicle slaloms, and we arrived in an airy corner lounge with very comfortable furniture.
The panel arrives, and one of them is wearing a bright shirt with a pattern scheme I know to be particular to Oahu – glad to know we’re on the same page.
They asked how we were. The guys candidly expressed nervousness. I made a light joke about my terror-inducing cab ride, what a city!
Fortunately, I didn’t have to wrestle with the moral dilemma of speaking ill of my two new friends from the lobby. The panel was skilled in keeping conversation free flowing, the conversation consisting mainly of our collective madness for video games.
One question sticks out to me: “Can you describe a bug that you’ve found in a published game?” I must have put 8 hours into studying for an interview, but this one escaped me. A fluke synapse alignment then shot forth an ancient memory.
In the NES game “Battle of Olympus”, you could at any time travel to the gates of the final level. However, without the crucial quest items acquired throughout the game, you could neither open those gates nor retreat to an earlier stage without restarting the console.
I floated outside of myself as someone else described this effectively perfect answer. Apparently, I wasn’t even in elementary school when I discovered a bug that, if it had been known during development, would have delayed production until resolved. They’d call a bug like that an “A1″ – a show stopper.
I took my time getting home, feeling very open and chatty. Dare I say I felt outright sparkly. I felt brotherly love for everyone on the train. My voice was very sore by the evening.
I’m riding home in the dark tonight, all done up in lights like a rolling Christmas tree. A white Corolla passes on my left, then shortly after turns across my path to parallel park on the right side of the road.
On the approach, it was uncertain if he meant to make a Y-turn, which would involve turning across my path again. The driver wasn’t giving a turn signal at all.
Caution is a healthy habit for night riders, so I called a hearty, “On your left!” as I upshifted to zip around the stopped car. As I’m making a tight pass on the busy road, the driver’s head pops out the window like a Whack-A-Mole, shouting, “What. Waaaaaht!” with the most vivid Brooklyn inflection ever to reach these Pacifican ears.
I almost took the poor guy’s head off, and that would have been horrible in it’s own right. It would be additionally bad, since he probably misunderstood my ping for a heckle.
Anyhow, that voice that could have come straight from a gangster film kept me giggling all the way home.
Crazytown!
I emailed a covered resume to Bay Area Game Studio on Sunday afternoon. I got a call from their HR rep at 10 o’clock Monday morning. They want to arrange an interview in a couple days.
Wicked Sweet!
This is already universes better than retail courtship.