This is a continuation from here.
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Graduation
Several months have passed and I am slowly figuring the lay of the land. This is a painstaking process but my confidence is growing day by day.
At the six months mark Bjorn sits me down in his office. He looks serious and I sense the importance of this moment as Sibelius’ Finlandia plays quietly in the background.
“You are not a rookie anymore,” he begins slowly, as if going over the phases of my development. I start feeling like a chrysalis that is soon to become a beautiful butterfly.
“You are not a rookie anymore,” he repeats as his gaze hardens, “now you are just plain dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I repeat, dumbfounded, as this is definitely not what I expected to hear.
“Well,” he continues, “you will soon stop asking questions because you think that you know it all, and eventually you will get into trouble."
“I will try my best,” I promise solemnly, “and I will always ask questions."
Bjorn glares at me with irritation, “Let’s not be hasty. When I say that you are dangerous,” he explains, “it only means that you are making important and pivotal decisions and there is a lot at stake. Not like at your university."
“Oh, so I passed,” I think, and relax, as this is perhaps the closest thing to praise that I am going to get.
Security training
There is less work in the late Spring and the Government Science Agency uses this time for essential training. The first session concerns EHC strategy in the context of an active shooter in the building. The whole floor is gathered in the large conference room, and a fellow dressed in camo explains that EHC stands for Escape, Hide, and Confront. Escape and Hide nobody has much problem with, but Confront is a bit of a pickle.
“You just throw all you've got at him,” Camo-man explains patiently. “This is your last resort."
“I have nothing to throw!” says a logician from the Mathematics Unit, “so in anticipation of this scenario, I would like to have something."
“Something?” Camo-man repeats suspiciously.
“Yeah,” the logician perks up, “like an Uzi or a Glock."
“Do you have a concealed carry permit?"
“Of course,” the logician lies swiftly, knowing that obtaining one is not much harder than getting a membership for the National Geographic Society.
Camo-man beams. “So you will not be outgunned.” He glances at the logician with appreciation.
The presentation is about to continue when the union representative raises her hand. “I must respectfully disagree, but this is getting us nowhere.” She takes a deep breath, "this is just another power grab from the Scientific Staff, which undercuts hard-working Administrative Professionals.”
“If we must arm up--and I believe we must,” she continues with steely undertones, "then we ought to begin with Administrative Professionals rather than Program Officers."
Confused silence envelops the room as the training session moves in an unexpected direction.
“No need to argue!” A member of the financial unit says, trying to diffuse this delicate issue, "in light of the OOCPF policy, everybody can get a handgun."
“What is the OOCPF policy?” I ask Bjorn, who is sitting on my other side.
“Only One Computer Per Face."
Suddenly there is some hesitation in the room.
“Can I trade an Uzi for a second laptop for home use?” someone asks.
“That would be permissible,” Camo-man answers, “but are you sure that you want to do that?"
“Another doofus who brings a laptop to a gunfight,” I hear a whisper behind me.
Millionaire Club
It is not long after my graduation that disaster strikes. As I examine the spreadsheet containing all of my program spending, I notice something suspicious. I check, double-check and triple-check, and the ugly truth becomes apparent -- a simple spreadsheet error has resulted in considerable overspending.
I close the door and sit in my office in a total panic. “Dangerous,” rings in my mind as I recall Bjorn’s words.
An hour later I waddle to his office and confess. Waves of humiliation pass over me as I explain my screw-up.
Bjorn sits with a poker face without saying a word.
“How much did you overspend? More than a million?” he finally asks.
“Just about,” I whisper, struggling with words.
Bjorn reaches into a drawer and fishes out a small pin in the shape of the letters MC.
“Welcome to the Millionaire Club,” he says with a big smile, and hugs me awkwardly. “A screw-up of this size gets you in."
“Millionaire Club?” I echo, uncertain of what is going on, because he looks very pleased. “So this is not a disaster?”
“Let’s just say that the Millionaire Club includes most of the permanent employees of the Government Science Agency, and a good handful of rotators,” Bjorn answers and flashes his MC pin, hidden under his shirt collar.
“So this is a good thing?” I mumble, my mind is foggy. I do not understand what is going on, and I keep blindly repeating myself.
“Are you reading newspapers?” Bjorn asks, as if explaining some trivialities, “there are just over 4 million government workers, and the country runs a 400 billion dollar deficit each year."
I try to get a grip on the orders of magnitude, but have problems counting zeros.
“You just did the work of ten government workers,” Bjorn says helpfully. “Someone will sleep better because of you."
“Am I supposed to overspend?” I am completely confused, “why didn't anybody tell me?"
“Are you crazy?” Bjorn is suddenly nervous, “of course you are not supposed to overspend!” he says emphatically.
“The budget deficit is something that just happens by itself,” he says with firm conviction.
“But it is good if people are pulling their load and it happens in an organized and predictable manner,” he adds after a pause.
I finally relax, seeing that perhaps not all is lost.
“So I will get my money back,” I ask just to be sure.
“Yeah, someone will get your money back,” Bjorn answers absentmindedly, already moving on to the next task.
Big Lebowski
Bjorn is heavily involved in this gigantic undertaking, as hundreds of proposals have arrived in response to the call. I camp out in his office and sponge information off of him.
“Hundreds of proposals?” I marvel, “impressive intake.”
“Yeah,” Bjorn is level-headed and analytical. "There are a lot of underrepresented learners and discoverers out there, and we need to find and nurture them."
“And we fund The Dude to do it?” I am amazed at the audacity of this plan.
Bjorn gives me a strange look. “The Agency is quite divided between supporting The Dude and Big Lebowski. The Dude carries a lot of charisma while Big Lebowski represents more traditional values."
“C’mon.” I cannot hide my feelings, “The Dude abides and Big Lebowski is a crook."
Bjorn does not answer, and after a pause he says, “I love The Dude but he is a terrible model for a STEM initiative."
“And why is that?” I decide to take a stand. “STEM education is in tatters and he is the only hope to tie this mess together!"
Bjorn is silent, but I can see that he is getting irritated. “This aggression will not stand,” he says coldly, and waves me out of his office.
Gypra and Godzilla
I first heard about Gypra during lunch and I thought that this was one of the yoga asanas. Later, when the name came up again, I figured that it was a monster from a Godzilla movie. But a few months later everybody was talking about Gypra in a hushed and fearful way, and I decided to trot over to Bjorn’s office for explanations.
Bjorn listens to my theories with amused curiosity and then decides to set me straight.
Boy, am I wrong! Gypra is a monster, a silent killer of employee satisfaction, because it is a government performance metric!
I am bursting with questions, and Bjorn decides to illustrate the concept with a carefully chosen analogy.
“Suppose that you are a Jedi knight,” he begins and swiftly switches to Yoda-speak, “And of your adversaries unblemished you leave more than 25%. Yeesssssss."
“Huh,” is all I can manage to say.
“Proficient Jedi knight, would you say that you are, hmm?” he asks.
“Ok, I get it. Probably not."
“Program Knights, we are,” he muses. “If strong with you, you cannot do 75% of years' work in six months, then perhaps the Force is not, Yes, hmmm.” he pronounces, “and the essence of Gypra, this is. Yes, hmmm."
He raises his finger and a stack of proposals lifts from the shelf and floats towards the wastebasket. "To review your proposals, if all else fails, use the Force. Yeesssssss.”
“Some of those are mine!” I want to scream, but I am spellbound at this moment of epiphany. Bjorn is a Program Knight of the highest order and he serves Gypra at the deepest organic level.
After a while a dense fog that was momentarily filling Bjorn’s office slowly dissipates, and all goes back to normal.
“It is funny that you mention Godzilla though,” Bjorn continues as if nothing happened, “there is a rumor that a program that I will not mention is losing their battle with Gypra."
“Yeah?” I say, longing for more.
“They blame Godzilla for this mishap."
“What has she done?” I ask, as if I had the faintest clue what he is talking about.
“She took a sabbatical,” Bjorn answers curtly.
Sabbatical?
I ask not sure if it is more stunning that Godzilla took time off, or that the Government Science Agency has such a thing as sabbatical.
“Just before you arrived Godzilla went away and she has been incommunicado ever since,”
“Sounds interesting,” I say with fake excitement and zoom in on the essentials, “but what about a sabbatical?"
Bjorn is in a good mood, and I see that he wants to chat.
“This is a long story," he begins. “Have you tele-worked already?"
“Oh yeah, I love it,” I answer and quickly decide not to dwell on details.
Bjorn seems to read my mind. “Everybody loves it,” he says, “and so it is paramount that the Government Science Agency provides definite evidence that there is a difference between tele-working and tele-not-working."
“Is there?” I blurt faster than I think.
“Relax,” Blorn gives me a fatherly smile, “Godzilla is the proof."
“Because she is tele-not-working, and Gypra murders her colleagues?” I try to connect the dots.
“That is a clear possibility,” Bjorn is pleased with me. As an afterthought, he adds: “but she may not be happy with this outcome. And when Godzilla is not happy, she will come back breathing fire and roaring. You’ll see.
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continues here
